The Phoebe Parker CSI Case Files
by LittletonPace
Summary: Phoebe Parker is the new recruit at Las Vegas CSI. Follow the cases and struggles of this Australian girl who has to fit in with an already close team. Will she be able to hack it? Please read and review, I love it! :D
1. Meet & Greet

**MEET & GREET**

Phoebe Parker practically jumped out of her SUV as she arrived at the Clark County Crime Scene Investigations building. She'd been waiting for this day for a whole month; ever since she'd arrived in Las Vegas from Miami. Although, she was originally from Australia.

Phoebe pressed the lock on her hand-held remote and locked her car before heading towards the ominous looking building ahead of her. She tossed her keys in her shoulder bag and pulled of her sunglasses, wincing in the bright light.

Hot day in Vegas indeed. Phoebe had grown up in Brisbane which got pretty damn hot in the summer; so this nasty, scorching Vegas weather wasn't exactly new to her. Not that she enjoyed it in any way.

Phoebe had been working in Miami for about a year when she'd been offered the job in Vegas. She jumped at the chance to get out of that city. It just wasn't her scene. But living in the city that never sleeps? That was her scene.

Phoebe had been called in to replace another agent, Holly Gribbs, who'd been killed on the job the week before. She was meant to come in as trainee since they were already short handed but now that job had fallen to Phoebe. And she was more than happy to oblige.

Phoebe entered the building through the glass doors. She checked with the lady at the front desk who told her to go all the way to the back and that's where she'd find Gil Grissom; her new supervisor. She'd heard a lot about this guy. He was apparently kind of kooky with a serious fetish for insects. Phoebe was eager to meet him; she'd occasionally been called kooky herself.

Nick Stokes glanced at the chart on the wall in the locker room. It was only the week before he'd been promoted to CSI level three after completing a hundred cases. He'd beaten Warrick Brown by one. With that promotion he got a pay rise and an extra fortnight's vacation; definitely worth it. As Nick grabbed his bag to head home for some much needed sleep after the night shift before he started again at ten, he noticed a woman walking past the locker room.

He didn't recognize her which meant she was probably either a witness or next of kin for a victim. CSI was a small building; everyone basically knew everything about each other. She was gorgeous; Nick noticed that right away. He was somewhat of a ladies man. Although she wasn't exactly the type of girl Nick usually went after. He was partial to redheads and she was a brunette. Nick often met his dates while on a night out. He hadn't had a serious relationship in years.

The woman walked passed the locker and headed towards Grissom's office without even looking in Nick's direction. He craned his neck around his locker and kept watching her walk. He didn't notice Sara Sidle enter the room.

"Hey Nick." She greeted him as she shrugged off her jacket. Sara had been working at CSI for about a week. Grissom had called her in to help when Holly Gribbs was killed. Now she was on full time. When Nick didn't answer her, she looked in his direction. He was watching something else. "Nick?"

Nick snapped back to reality. "Yeah?" he turned to Sara. "What's up?"

"What're you staring at?" Sara walked and looked at what Nick was staring at. She saw a woman she recognized standing at the door to Grissom's office. Sara smiled as she turned to Nick and raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't. She's the new girl."

"What's that now?" Nick asked trying to look casual as he packed his bag.

"Holly's replacement. Grissom was telling me about her. She starts tonight but had to come in today to learn the ropes." Sara walked back to her own locker.

"She's gonna work here?" Nick asked.

"Yeah." Sara shouldered her bag and slammed her locker shut. She walked past Nick as she headed for the door. "Might wanna stop drooling; not pretty."

Sara gave him a smug smile. Nick rolled his eyes as she left the locker room. He slammed his locker shut and slowly shook his head. He headed out of the locker room, glancing back at this new girl once more before he left.

Phoebe stared into Grissom's empty office. She was in the right place, his name was on the door, but he wasn't inside. Not anywhere that she could see anyway. One thing Phoebe did notice was there were jars of dead animals all over the shelves. She saw labels for animal parts and fetal pigs. And then all over the walls where glass cases of butterflies, cockroaches and spiders. Phoebe entered the office slowly, scanning the various specimens.

"Creepy, huh?" Grissom said from the doorway. Phoebe spun around, slightly startled. Grissom walked further into his office, joining Phoebe in looking at his collection. "Most people are put off by my friends."

Phoebe smiled. "No, not put off. Intrigued."

"Phoebe Parker?" Grissom guessed.

"Hi." Phoebe extended her hand and he shook it.

"Gil Grissom. You're new supervisor." Grissom went over to his desk and sat down. Phoebe sat in the chair across from him.

"How are you finding Vegas?" Grissom asked, retrieving her file from a stack on his desk.

"Good. Always something happening." Phoebe told him.

"Indeed there is. You're starting on tonight's shift, right?" Grissom asked, scanning her file.

"Yeah, as far as I know." Phoebe told him nodding.

"You'll be working with Nick Stokes and Catherine Willows. Catherine's an old hand. But don't tell her I said that. She'll teach you everything you need to know about being in the field here in Vegas. I understand you worked for Miami Dade CSI for a year?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, with Horatio Caine? I was CSI Two there." Phoebe informed him.

"One of the best." Grissom nodded. "Well, I asked you to come here today just so you could get a feel for the lab and meet some of our people. But first…" Grissom stood up and went over to a cupboard on the wall. He retrieved from it what seemed to be all the equipment needed to take Phoebe's blood. She raised her eyebrows at him as he stood before her. "I'll need your blood."

Phoebe wondered if this was meant to throw her off; some kind of test to see if she was worthy of CSI Vegas. Terrified of needles as she may be; she wasn't going to let that stop her work here. She rolled up her right sleeve and held it out to Grissom. "Try not to take too much; I'm fond of my blood."

Phoebe focused on the wall covered in cases of butterflies as Grissom drew her blood into a container. "Standard procedure for new employees." He was saying. "All done."

Phoebe looked at her arm and saw he'd placed a bandage over the needle mark. Grateful it was over; she shrugged her sleeve down.

"Ready to meet the team?" Grissom asked, smiling at her.

Phoebe got to her feet. "Damn right." She grinned.

The lab was the first place they went. Phoebe was introduced to a young man by the name of Greg Sanders; a cute, slightly weird lab tech who had an affinity for heavy metal music. He winked at Phoebe as she left. She smiled and shook her head at him.

Next they went into the break room where Phoebe met Warrick Brown, a very attractive black man with unimaginable green eyes. He was on his way out so a rushed greeting was all they got.

On their way down the hall, Grissom stopped a middle-aged woman with blonde hair. "Catherine Willows." He said pointing to Phoebe. "This is Phoebe Parker."

"Phoebe. My newbie for tonight." Catherine shook Phoebe's hand. "Don't worry; easy case for your first night, I promise. Are you excited?"

"I think eager and slightly scared about sums it up." Phoebe told her.

"Hey, you're working with me; you'll do fine." She smiled and looked to Grissom. "I gotta go see Lindsey before school. See you tonight."

Grissom and Phoebe bade her goodbye and they continued on. "Wanna take a trip downtown?" Grissom asked Phoebe.

"Sure." She agreed immediately. "Ah…why?"

"There's someone else I'd like you to meet." Grissom gave her a secretive smile and held open the door for her. "Shall we?"

When they arrived at the sheriff's office downtown, Phoebe got nervous. She had a thought that maybe they were going to make her sit a lie-detector test. They had taken her blood, after all, was a polygraph that far behind? Grissom directed Phoebe into an office were a surly looking man was sitting at his desk.

"Captain Jim Brass, this is Phoebe Parker. Our new recruit." Grissom stood near the door and ushered Phoebe to stand in front of the captain's desk.

Phoebe smiled at him, unsure of what to say. He took care of that. "You are now the sixth person I've had to hire for that lab." He sneered taking a long sip from his cup of coffee.

"Lucky six." She said with a smile. She got the feeling he was trying to intimidate her.

"Ah, you think you're funny." Brass told her with a smirk. "Another joker, just what we need. Okay then, Parker, why don't you tell me why you think you should be here; I'm sure it'll make me laugh."

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. "Well, because I'm the best." She said bluntly. "But you knew that. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. I mean, why hire someone you think is sub-par? It just makes your office look bad."

Brass raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

Phoebe nodded. "Absolutely. The only reason we're having this conversation is because you're seeing if I'll fit in here; among the best of the best. Oh, and between us? I will."

Brass stared at her with a stone look. Grissom put his head in his hands; Brass did not like being talked down to. But then, to Grissom's amazement, the Captain broke out in a dry laugh. "Yeah, yeah, get out of my office."

Phoebe smiled at him. "Gladly, sir." She said before turning and leaving feeling rather happy with herself.

Grissom stayed behind for a moment, watching Brass chuckle. He looked up at Grissom and shook his head. "She's very good."

Grissom smiled and left the office, leaving the Captain in a considerably more cheerful mood then he'd been in before they'd arrived.


	2. Crime Scene

**CRIME SCENE**

Phoebe and Grissom went back to the lab and he spent about four hours going over how paperwork was filed, what to do if you have issues with a colleague and mundane things that where the fire exits were. Then she was treated to her first Vegas autopsy. She met Doctor Al Robbins, the head coroner, and his protégé David. Before Phoebe knew it, it was eight o'clock and she was sitting in Catherine Willow's car on the way to her first Vegas crime scene.

"So, Grissom was telling me you have a little girl?" Phoebe asked. They'd been talking about Phoebe's career so much she just wanted to take the focus off herself.

"Yeah, lil' Lindsey." Catherine said smiling. "She's almost seven."

"Are you married?" Phoebe's wandered over the surroundings they were passing. Everything was neon.

"Separated." Catherine told her. "Divorce is imminent."

"Sorry." Phoebe murmured, slightly embarrassed she's brought it up.

"Don't be." Catherine assured her. "I'm not." She smiled as she pulled her car into the driveway of a suburban home. There were police cars with their lights flashing up and down the street. Phoebe noticed Captain Brass talking to an elderly couple who were both in dressing gowns. The elderly woman was clutching a black poodle. Catherine parked the car and she and Phoebe got out, grabbing their kits as they did.

Brass left the elderly couple and came to meet Phoebe and Catherine. "Hello ladies." He said as he reached them.

"Hey Jim. Do you know Phoebe?" Catherine pointed to her partner.

"Yeah, we go way back." Jim smiled at Phoebe.

"What've we got?" Catherine asked, nodding towards the house as they all walked to the front door.

"Thirty-two year old male. Tim Martin. DOA. Looks like a drug overdose but all the neighbors say the same thing. Stand up guy, mowed their lawns, fed their pets, and someone who, and I quote, 'Would not light up a doobie.'" Brass held down the police tape with his foot to let Phoebe and Catherine step over with ease. "Coroner's upstairs with Nick."

"Great, thanks." Catherine said to Brass as she and Phoebe entered the house.

Upstairs, Nick snapped a photo of the body in front of him. It was a textbook OD. The empty pill bottle, the vomit pooled by the victims head. If it weren't for the furious denials of the neighbors, Nick would've ruled this accidental overdose and have been done with it. But even statements were evidence and they needed to be taken into account. Nick shot another photo at a different angle when Catherine walked into the room, setting her kit down on the floor as she did. Behind her came the woman Nick had seen in the lab earlier that morning. Nick got to his feet and went over to them.

"Hey Nick." Catherine said, surveying the dead body. "Phoebe, this is Nick Stokes. Just became CSI Three."

"Hey there." Nick said, shaking Phoebe's hand.

"Hi." She replied smiling.

"Been here long?" Catherine asked Nick as she walked over to the body.

"About a half hour." Nick told her. "I collected samples off the body and the vomit, haven't done the room." Nick looked to Phoebe. "You wanna get started on that?"

"Sure." Phoebe nodded, setting her kit down. The three of them worked in silence for almost an hour. Phoebe dusted every surface in the room and didn't come up with any prints. Somewhat disappointed, she got on her hands and knees and started scanning the carpet. Catherine was checking out the bed for any sign of evidence while Nick helped the coroner remove the body and was now checking the area where the body had been.

"Oh, hey, I got something." Phoebe spoke up, breaking the silence. She pulled tweezers out of the pocket on her vest and retrieved a small, white chip about the size of a pea from the carpet. She pulled out a magnifying glass and looked at it more closely. "Looks like a pill fragment." She looked up at Nick. "Did you find any other pills?"

Nick shook his head. "No. The pill bottle claimed it was full of Diazepam, prescription filled two days ago by the vic. But I found no fragments on or around the body."

"Well, when we test the vomit; we'll know." Catherine said, pushing off the bed. She retrieved the ALS from her kit and started scanning the bed for fluid. The blue light interfered with Phoebe's search on the floor so she took the chance to stand and stretch her back. As she did, she noticed some photos hanging on the wall near the window. They were of the victim and a woman, a blonde, very pretty. In every picture they were smiling. Phoebe mentally remembered where she'd been searching on the floor and walked over to the pictures.

"He has a girlfriend." Phoebe said. Catherine came over and joined her.

"Maybe they just broke up and he was trying to numb the pain." Catherine suggested. "Or maybe she was looking for an easy way out of a bad relationship. I'll have Brass do a search for her." She pulled off her latex gloves and headed out of the room. "Play nice, I'll be right back."

Phoebe continued looking at the photos as Nick made his way back to his kit. "So you're from Australia?" he asked.

"Yeah." She replied, glancing at him. "You gonna tell me you have family there?" she gave him a wry smile.

He held his hands out at his sides. "Just making small talk." He smiled. Phoebe looked back at the photos.

He was cute and very aware of it. Just the kind of guy Phoebe despised. But he seemed nice enough. As long as he didn't hit on her; they'd be fine. "So how long have you been working in Vegas?" Phoebe asked him.

"About four years." He replied. "Eats the hell out of your social life but other than that, it's a great gig."

Phoebe smiled without looking around at him. She was focused on a particular photo hanging on the wall. It was of the victim and the blonde woman locked in an embrace standing on top of a mountain looking ecstatic. Something caught her eye on the edge of the frame. "Hey Nick, can you hand me a swab please?"

Nick found the chemical in his kit, collected a cotton swab and took them over to Phoebe. He handed them to her and watched over her shoulder as she swabbed the edge of a particular picture frame. She then poured the chemical over the tip of the swab. It immediately lit up with a bright pink stain. She turned to Nick and they grinned happily at each other.

Catherine came back into the room. "Find anything?" She asked as she pulled new gloves on.

Phoebe turned to her, smiling. "We got blood."


	3. Results

**RESULTS**

Phoebe spent four more hours at that crime scene with Nick and Catherine. She sprayed phenothaylene on the wall surrounding the stained picture and discovered there was blood all over it. Someone had tried to clean it up with a regular household cleaner, but blood never disappears completely. She'd taken a swab and was waiting on the results from Greg.

When the three of them arrived back at the CSI lab, Nick and Phoebe immediately head for the break room. They took twenty minutes to have a coffee and recover from the scene. They talked the whole time. Phoebe found out that Nick was the youngest of seven children with one brother and five sisters. He grew up in Dallas, which explained his accent, and worked for the Dallas Police for three years just after college. His father was a well-respected Supreme Court Judge and his mother is a public defender. They even had a cattle ranch. And Nick discovered that Phoebe was an only child and her father had died fifteen years ago. Her mother re-married an American man and moved to the states five years before. She convinced Phoebe to come over and try and work here; so she did.

Phoebe realized her first impression of Nick hadn't been fair. Yeah, he was cute, but he was also funny and seemed to care a lot about everyone in the lab. That was an attribute Phoebe wasn't familiar with in men Nick reminded her of. It seemed as though he was just a good guy who was blessed with an attractive face and well-toned body. Although dating was out of the question; you can't date a colleague, especially when you're working together every day. But Phoebe wasn't the type of girl to have a fling either. She'd picked the wrong man so many times; she was really enjoying being on her own right now.

Nick realized that Phoebe wasn't only gorgeous, she was hilarious. And she had an ease about her that was infectious. He felt as though they'd been friends for years. And Nick didn't have many girls who were good friends except at work. But Catherine was more like one of his older sisters and Sara he'd only known a week. He liked having someone else to joke around with.

Catherine knocked on the open break room door. "Brass got a hit on the blonde from the photos. Rachel Anne Summers. Apparently she and Tim, our vic, had been together for two years, according to her roommate."

"Where is she now?" Phoebe asked.

"MIA." Catherine shrugged. "Roommate hasn't seen her in two days, claims she was staying with Tim."

"Any family?" Nick asked.

"No. Roommate says her parents died when she was a nineteen and she's been on her own ever since." Catherine folded her arms. "Brass put out an APB on her car, a white Toyota, so we'll have to wait and see."

"Have Tim Martin's family been in to ID the body?" Nick asked.

"His brother's downstairs with Doc Robbins." Catherine told him. "I'll talk to him when he comes up. Meantime, Phoebe can you test that possible pill fragment?"

"On it." Phoebe said, clearing out of the room.

Catherine watched her go with a smile. The girl was eager; that was for sure. And so far, she was doing really well. She was a quick learner, friendly and used initiative. Catherine turned to Nick. "How do you like the new girl?"

Nick nodded. "She's good. You?"

"So far she's having a great first day. Hope it keeps going. People were starting to think that job was cursed." Catherine raised her eyes to Nick before heading back out into the hall. "Check on Greg, would you Nicky?" She called as she walked out.

Phoebe was alone in the lab as she tested the possible pill fragment she found at the scene. It was exciting following up a lead that she'd discovered on her own. In Miami, it was always done as a team. And though Phoebe liked to work as part of a group, she liked her independence, too. She broke down the evidence again and then again before placing it in a machine that separated all the particles. Then, by some major technological software, it identified each individual ingredient and sent that information to the computer. The computer then ran a search on the elements, looking for minerals that had the same quantity of each element as in the original fragment. It may sound simple, but the whole process took two hours.

While waiting for the printout, Phoebe spun around on her chair at the lab desk to keep herself entertained. She stopped when the printer spat out the results and saw Nick watching her from the doorway grinning. "Having fun?" he asked, walking into the lab.

"I was." Phoebe said, standing up. "Now I just feel sick." She shook it off and went over to the printer, retrieving the document.

"I just came from the morgue. Doc Robbins finished up on Tim about ten minutes ago. Said Diazepam and beer were the only things in his stomach contents. Same goes for his vomit." Nick said reading over Phoebe's shoulder.

"Well, what I found was just a run-of-the-mill aspirin." Phoebe said, slightly disheartened, showing her results to Nick.

"Doc found no trace of any other pills in Tim's system." Nick told her.

Phoebe sighed. "Wait, did you say beer? We didn't find beer at the scene."

"I know. None in the trash either. Catherine's talking to the brother right now; he might give us a lead." Nick handed Phoebe back the results. The pair of them walked out of the lab together and head down the hallway.

"Did Greg get a hit off the blood from the wall?" Pheobe asked.

"Only that it's a woman's." Nick shook his head. "Ran it through the database and nothing came up. Which means we gotta find something to compare it to for an ID." Nick led them into the office they were using to work on the case.

"Great." Phoebe said sarcastically, adding the printout to the growing file on the case as she and Nick sat down at the desk.

"Hey, do you have those crime scene photos of the blood spatter?" Nick asked, rummaging through the papers in front of him.

"Um…" Phoebe sifted through the file and removed a number of enlarged, glossy prints. "Yes." She handed them over to Nick.

"Thanks." He looked them over. "Now I'm just gonna guess it was a head wound. The female victim's head was involuntarily thrown back, causing the blood pattern."

"But how and where did she get attacked?" Phoebe brought up. "There's no blood pool at the scene which means she probably wasn't hurt in that house."

"Right." Nick agreed. "Well, there wasn't an exceptional amount of blood. It's even likely to say the woman had a bad paper cut and threw her arms out in during an argument. Accidental spatter."

"Although it was partially cleaned up. And, according to the sample, the chemicals were still eating away at the blood so it had to have happened in at least the last twelve hours." Phoebe reminded him.

"Which suggests this woman was there with Tim around the time he died." Nick realized.

"Reckon she's our missing blonde, Rachel?" Phoebe asked Nick, raising her eyebrows.

Nick shrugged. "Only lead we got."

Catherine sat across from Roy Martin in the interview room feeling nothing but pity. He'd just lost his brother and, from what he'd said, they were close. Roy was as adamant as the neighbors had been that Tim would never overdose. Catherine mentioned the bottle of Diazepam being re-filled only days ago by his brother, but Roy didn't believe her.

"Tim wasn't depressed." Roy told Catherine incredulously. "I talked to him at least three times a week; he was always in a great mood."

"Well, Diazepam is specifically prescribed to sufferers of depression because it elevates their mood." Catherine told him gently. "In some people, you can't even tell their taking them."

Roy drew in a shaky breath and covered his mouth with his balled hands. "I don't understand why he wouldn't tell me that."

Catherine proceeded carefully. "Mr. Martin, do you Rachel Summers?"

"Sure, sure." Roy nodded. "She and Tim had been together for years. He was planning to propose to her…" Roy's eyes grew glassy as he spoke.

"Do you know where we could find her?" Catherine asked slowly.

Roy wiped a stray tear from his eye. "I don't know her phone number but she, ah, she works at a bar downtown. Hennigens. She's there most nights. Gives me free drinks."

"Mr. Martin, were Rachel and Tim having any problems that you knew of?" Catherine asked.

Roy vigorously shook his head. "No, no. They were happy. No, there was nothing bad between them."

Catherine nodded, thanked the man and left the interview room. She found Nick and Phoebe working in one of the offices over photos of the blood spatter.

"Hey, how'd the interview go?" Nick asked Catherine as she entered the room.

"Well, Roy claims not to know his brother was taking Diazepam and that he and Rachel were as happy as it gets." Catherine informed them. "But he did say she works at a bar downtown. Hennigens."

"Brass called a few minutes ago." Nick told Catherine. "He chased down the white Toyota. It belongs to Rachel's great-Aunt. She lets her use it every now and then. And it's safely in her garage."

"Alright, I'm going to go back to the scene and to search over the house, maybe there's something there that puts Rachel at the scene." Catherine said, glancing at her watch. "You two; take a uniform and go to that bar and see if they've seen Rachel or Tim in the last two days."

Phoebe and Nick got to their feet as Catherine walked out of the room. "Been to any bars in Vegas yet?" Nick asked Phoebe as they left the room, Phoebe in the lead.

"No, basically all I've done is work." Phoebe told him.

"Maybe after shift I can buy you a drink?" Nick asked smoothly.

She looked back at him. "I don't drink." She grinned.

"Oh, that's how it's gonna be?" Nick asked chuckling.

Phoebe laughed. "You bet." Phoebe whipped her sunglasses out of her pocket and opened the front door of the lab to Nick. He paused before going through before her. She slipped her glasses over her eyes and followed Nick out the door.


	4. That's Hennigans

**THAT'S HENNIGENS**

Phoebe drove her SUV to the bar downtown. On the way, she and Nick discussed the pros and cons of each of their personal vehicles. Nick told her a story of how when he was younger, he begged his mother for a car for his birthday but instead she got him a complete set of encyclopedias. It was almost four am when Nick and Phoebe arrived at the bar. They were closing up for the night but the site of the pair of them accompanied by a police officer was enough to make them stay open a while longer.

Hennigens was owned by a man named Arty J. Hennigen, a hearty, friendly fellow of medium height. He ushered Phoebe and Nick into the back office so as not to alarm his staff and the remaining customers being ushered out for the night.

"What can I do for you?" Arty asked Nick and Phoebe. "Always like to help the authorities where I can."

"Mr. Hennigen, have you seen this man?" Phoebe asked, removing a photo of Tim Martin from the folder in her hand and showing it to him.

"Please, call me Arty." He said as he too the photo. "Oh yeah, yeah, Tim. Rachel's fella. Nice guy."

"Does he come by a lot?" Nick asked.

"Once a week at least." Arty told him, handing Phoebe back the photo. "He in some kind of trouble?"

"Mr. Martin was found dead yesterday." Nick told Arty solemnly.

"Ah, no." Arty shook his head. "That's terrible. He was a great guy. How's Rachel, she okay?"

"Actually, we were hoping you could help us out with that." Phoebe said. "Was she working tonight?"

"No, no." Arty shook his head. "She called in sick two days ago but other than that, she's never missed a day of work. She wants to be an actress, y'know?"

"Do you know where we could find Rachel?" Nick asked.

"Ah, sure." Arty pulled open a desk in her drawer and pulled out a large file. He rifled through it for a few moments before handing a sheet of paper to Nick. "I keep up to date records of all my staff. You never know what's gonna happen. Especially in Vegas."

"Thank you." Phoebe said, standing. "If Rachel stops by, will you call us?" She handed Arty one of her new business cards.

"Absolutely." Arty took the card.

"One more thing, Mr. Hennigen," Nick said as he got to his feet. "Has Tim been in the pub in the last two days?"

Arty nodded. "Yeah, he was here last night. With that brother of his." Arty got to his feet and started showing them out of his office. "They come in together every now and then. Had some kinda argument."

"Argument?" Phoebe inquired.

"Yeah, nothing major. After a few beers they walked out of here arm in arm." Arty waved a dismissive hand. "Roy wouldn't hurt his brother."

"Mr. Hennigen, would you voluntarily give us a sample of your beer?" Nick asked.

"Why?" Arty asked.

"Tim Martin had beer in his stomach at the time of his death; if we prove it was yours it can help us establish a timeline." Nick informed him.

Arty walked to the bar. "Sure, sure. Whatever you need." Arty opened the bar fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle. "Tim and Roy only drink these, our specialty."

Phoebe smiled at the bar owner. "Thank you Mr. Hennigen."

Catherine had thoroughly been through almost every room in Tim Martin's house searching for signs that Rachel Summer's had been there recently. Although, they were partially living together so any evidence like hair or skin cells that she did find could be explained away. She needed something out of the ordinary.

Catherine made her way into the kitchen. It was almost four-thirty in the morning so she worked in the dark with only the light of her torch to guide her. She scanned every surface and every implement in the kitchen for blood and came up with nothing. She stood at the doorway and sighed, about to throw in the towel, when she heard a soft buzzing sound. She looked around with her torch and noticed a fly circling around her head. She watched it for a moment before realizing the fly wasn't alone. She spotted two others near the air vent. Grissom told her once that one fly inside was by accident. Two was evidence.

Catherine pushed a bar stool against the wall and climbed up on top of it. She held her torch in her mouth so the light shone ahead of her. She made sure her gloves were secure before she reached for the air vent. She struggled with it for a few moments before it came free of the wall. Catherine took her torch from her mouth and shone it inside the air vent. She spied several more flies sitting on something in the vent. Reaching in, she hands fell upon something cool. Disturbing the flies, Catherine pulled the object out of the vent. It was a knife with a red stain over the blade and handle. Blood; a major attractor of flies. She looked more closely at the handle and grinned. There was a fingerprint pressed into the blood.

Catherine took this new evidence straight to Greg. After promising to buy him breakfast, he agreed to test her blood immediately. While she waited for the results, she went in search of Nick and Phoebe and found them back in the office.

"How was Hennigens?" she asked coming in the room and taking a seat.

"Dead end." Phoebe told her. "Arty, the guy who owns the place, says Rachel hasn't been at work for two days. He gave us this." She handed a sheet of paper to Catherine. "Contact details. But its just the same address and phone number as the roommate."

"He did say that both Tim and Roy were in the bar last night drinking these." Nick retrieved the bottle of beer. It was half empty. "I tested it against the beer we found in Tim Martin's system and got a match."

"Well, I found this in a vent at the crime scene." Catherine pulled a photo out of the file in her hand and passed it to Phoebe.

"A dagger?" Phoebe guessed, handing it to Nick so he could see.

Catherine nodded. "Covered in blood with a partial print on the handle. But everything in that kitchen was spotless. It seems odd to stash this in an air vent."

"Hey guys." Greg appeared in the doorway with a sheet of paper in his hand. "No jokes about me being fast, okay, but I tested your blood." He handed the results to Catherine.

"Blood from the dagger's a match to the blood you found on the wall." Catherine said to Phoebe.

"What about the partial?" Nick asked.

"Ran it through AFIS. Got a hit from a DUI three years ago." He handed another sheet of paper to Nick.

"Who is it?" Phoebe asked.

He looked up at her wide-eyed. "Roommate."

Catherine immediately called Brass. The roommate, otherwise known as Lila Jacobs, had been hiding the truth. Her fingerprint on a dagger placed her in Tim Martin's house.

Brass met Catherine, Nick and Phoebe at Lila and Rachel's apartment along with two police cars should she resist arrest. Brass stood ahead of the CSI's and knocked on Lila's door. "Miss Jacobs? Captain Brass; Las Vegas PD." He called through the door.

Moments later, the door creaked open and a young woman peered through the gap in her door. "I already told you everything I know." She said.

"Then maybe you'd like to explain this." Catherine spoke up. She held up an evidence bag with the dagger inside it towards Lila.

"I don't know anything about that." Lila said quickly.

"Lila, don't." Another woman's voice said from inside the apartment. "It's okay." Lila sighed, shut her door, removed the keychain and opened it back up. Brass pushed the door open all the way to reveal another woman standing in the apartment with a bandage on her upper arm. "I'm Rachel." She said crossing her arms. "So…you found me."


	5. Live Together Die Alone

**LIVE TOGETHER DIE ALONE**

Catherine sent Nick back to the lab to test a sample of Rachel's blood that she'd voluntarily given them. Then Catherine and Phoebe went with Brass back to the police station to find out how much these two roommates were hiding. Catherine went into an interview room with a Detective Sam Vega to talk with Lila while Brass brought Phoebe in to help interview Rachel Summers.

"Tim wasn't as good a guy as his brother seems to think." Rachel said icily, folding her arms. "Why do you think he was on those drugs?" She leaned forwards. "He used to be in the army, he knows where to hit so it doesn't leave bruises."

"He hit you?" Phoebe asked.

Rachel laughed dryly. "Only when he was drinking. And since I worked in a bar, you can imagine how often that was."

"He beat you, so you killed him, is that the story?" Brass asked.

Rachel nodded.

"Why don't you tell me how?" Brass asked.

Rachel sighed. "With the pills." She sighed. "I wasn't working last night; Lila came over to watch the game. Tim came home drunk, bitching about an argument he'd had with his brother. He didn't know Lila was there. I dragged him up to the bedroom. I thought maybe he'd just go to sleep." She bit her lip. "But then hit me; didn't like the way I'd done my hair that day. He hit me here." She pointed to her temple. "And I fell. I fell into the armoire. Lila heard and came in running."

Catherine was having the same conversation with Lila in the other interview room. Lila was speaking softly. "I thought someone had broken in and was attacking her. So I ran to the kitchen and grabbed that knife. I went upstairs and found Rachel slumped on the floor clutching her head. And Tim had fallen on the bed. He was snoring." She looked up at Catherine with a look of disbelief, tears glassy in her eyes. "He'd beaten up on her and just gone to sleep. How could someone do that?"

Catherine sympathized with this woman. She just wanted to protect her friend. Catherine proceeded gently. "What happened next?"

"I went over to Rachel." Lila continued. "She was crying. I knew he used to hit her when they started going out. I told her to dump him. But she thought they were in love...she convinced me that he'd stopped." Lila's lip quivered in anger. "When I knew he'd started again, I got so angry."

Back in the other room, Rachel was still explained to Brass what happened. "I had a massive headache after Tim hit me so I went into our bathroom and got some aspirin. When I came out, Lila was going over to Tim with a knife in her hand." Rachel looked down at her hands. "I had to stop her. I tried to grab the knife out of her hand. In the struggle, she accidentally cut me."

"I told her that she couldn't let him do this to her anymore." Lila told Catherine. "He was going to kill her, I knew it."

"I suggested we use the pills." Rachel tried to explain to Brass. "I didn't know it would kill him; I thought it might just knock him out for a few hours so I could get the hell out of there."

Lila continued slowly. "We poured all the pills into his mouth. He didn't even wake up." Lila fiddled with her fingernails. "Then Rachel cleaned up the blood on the wall and I vacuumed the floor."

"And we got the hell out of there." Rachel finished. "I was going to stay with my great-Aunt when Lila told me Tim had died...we never meant for him to die. You have to believe me."

"All meaning aside, you _did_ kill him." Brass told her.

"Tim was going to kill her." Lila pleaded with Catherine. "He wasn't going to be happy until she was dead! I had to do something; I couldn't just watch him murder her!"

"You forced drugs into his system." Detective Vega reminded her. "You left him with no intention of returning or calling for help."

"If he beat you up, why did you stay with him?" Phoebe asked quizzically.

"Lady, have you ever been in love? It makes you do crazy things." Rachel told Phoebe.

"Like murder." Brass finished for her.

"I don't expect you to understand, detective." Rachel said, her voice shaking. "I loved Tim...but I'm not sorry he's gone."

Rachel and Lila were both taken to holding cells to await trial. Phoebe wasn't sure what was going to happen to either of them. A wrong thing done for the right reason is still the wrong thing. That didn't make her feel any less sorry for Rachel. She was being beaten up by her boyfriend and all her roommate wanted to do was keep her safe. And now they both faced life in prison.

Catherine drove Phoebe back to the station. They traveled in silence. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning by the time they got to CSI headquarters. Catherine pulled up to the front of the building and left the engine running. It was Saturday, she was going to spend some time with her daughter. Phoebe jumped out of the car.

"Hey, Phoebe?" Catherine called as she exited the car.

Phoebe shut the door behind her and leaned in through the open window. "Yeah?"

"You did really good today." Catherine told her.

Phoebe shook her head. "But those women-"

"Hey, it's not your job to decide their future." Catherine told her confidently. "You're a CSI. Your focus is the evidence. You go where it takes you. Evidence never lies." She paused. "If you keep thinking about each victim, each witness, each family...then it'll consume you. You need to be able to leave work at work."

"And if I can't?" Phoebe asked sadly.

"Oh, you can." Catherine said with a smile. "I know you can. And you know why? Because of what I saw in you today. How you acted in that crime scene…you were a pro. You knew what to look for, how to search, how to collect. You're made for this job, Phoebe." She stuck her car in gear. "You'll figure it out."

Phoebe smiled as she watched Catherine drive off. Then she turned and went into the building. She realized how tired she was. She'd been up for over twenty-four hours. She was looking forwards to getting back to her apartment and sleeping for awhile before she had to come back and do it all again that night.

She entered the locker room and went over to her cabinet. She saw that her name had been stuck to the outside of it. It was slightly crooked, but Phoebe didn't mind. She entered the code and pulled open the door. She took out her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then she closed the door and smiled to herself. Just as she was about to leave, Nick entered the room carrying the chart he'd been looking at the day before that displayed his and Warrick's cases. But since they were now both CSI Level Three, Nick had wiped it clean while Catherine and Phoebe were at the police station.

"You leaving?" Nick asked Phoebe as he eyed her packing up her bag.

"Yeah." She said as she walked over him and saw the board. She smiled as she saw her name at the top of one of the columns. Along the left side of the board were the numbers one to one hundred. At the very bottom next to the number one was written Accidental Homicide. "What is that?"

"It's a chart. Call it a motivational tool." Nick smiled. "You can keep track of all your cases. And when you get to a hundred you become CSI Three." He held out a pen to her. "Wanna cross of number one?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. She took the pen from Nick's hand and crossed of case one. Then she handed the pen back to Nick. "Thanks."

"I don't know if Grissom told you, but after a case we usually all go out to breakfast to celebrate." Nick said with a grin.

"Actually, no, he didn't mention that." Phoebe told him.

"Well, you wanna go?" Nick asked.

Greg came into the room rubbing his eyes. "Hey guys." He mumbled.

"Hey Greg, wanna go to breakfast with us?" Phoebe asked.

"Sure, won't say no to that." Greg agreed. Nick looked at Phoebe.

"I told you this was how it was gonna be." She said to him with a grin.

Nick laughed and followed her and Greg out of the office, ending yet another hectic night shift at Las Vegas CSI.


	6. Second Week In

Hey there. Just a note to all, I'm Australian so any American football lingo I use that's wrong, I apologize. I just went from what I've heard. I don't even know if the Nicks and the Celtics are a football or baseball team and I made up player names. So sorry in advance:D

**SECOND WEEK IN**

Phoebe poured two cups of coffee while she waited in the break room for Grissom to come and in give them their assignments. She picked up both cups and walked over to a very tired Sara Sidle who was half-sleeping on the couch in the corner of the room. Sara had only been working in Vegas for a week longer than Phoebe, but had pulled double shift; working the day and night shift.

"Here." Phoebe said holding out one of the mugs to her. "I should just hook it to your veins." Sara took the cup and thanked Phoebe who shoved her legs off the end of the couch and sat down beside her. "How long does he take to hand out assignments?"

"Varies." Sara said as she drank in the caffeine that would kick-start her day. "He likes to think he's unpredictable. But that in itself is predictable, actually." Sara realized.

Phoebe laughed as Nick and Warrick came into the break room, already deep in conversation.

"No, Nick, you're wrong." Warrick was saying. "The Nicks can get to the top of the table by the end of the month. Two, tops."

"No way, man, look at your man Euing, he can't keep off the plate." Nick countered. "Celtics have all they need to make it to the finals." He turned to the girls. "Ladies, back me up here."

Sara got to her feet. "I'm sorry, this sounds like something I'm never going to be interested in." she said as she went and added more sugar to her coffee.

"Phoebe, where do you stand?" Warrick asked her as he filled a coffee cup each for him and Nick. "Nicks or Celtics?"

"Oh, I don't follow American football." She told them.

"Oh yeah? So what's your game?" Warrick asked, taking a seat at the table.

"NRL." Phoebe told them. "National Rugby League. There's only one American cable channel that carries it."

"NRL?" Nick asked quizzically.

"Don't knock it; our guys are a lot more hard-ass then yours." Phoebe told him.

"Is that so?" Nick sat across from Warrick.

"Our boys don't run around with helmets and padding on. They go out there in tight t-shirts and short-shorts with no protection at all pounding into each other." Phoebe explained. "Now that, m'boys, is a sport."

At that moment, Grissom entered the room talking with Catherine Willows. He wore quite a smart, black suit. Not his usual work wear. "Alright team." He said with mock enthusiasm. "We got a busy night tonight so everyone's working solo except for Phoebe. Nick, robbery on the strip." He handed Nick a file. "Sara, homicide in Gregory Terrace." He handed her a file. "And Warrick, you and Phoebe; dead body found in an alley by the marina." He handed a file to Phoebe. "I have date with the court so Catherine's acting supervisor for the night. Call her if you need anything." With that, he left the room.

Catherine looked around at them. "Alright, you heard the man." she said. "Let's get started."

**xxx**

Phoebe and Warrick took his car down to the marina just outside of the Vegas strip. Captain Brass and his men were already on the scene trying to keep the growing crowd at bay. Phoebe noticed the young coroner David already at the body as she and Warrick walked over to him.

"Hey Dave." Warrick said as they reached him. "What've we got?"

"Male. Approximately thirty to thirty five years old. Liver temp suggests he's been dead about six hours." David told them.

"COD?" asked Phoebe.

"Preliminary cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the temple." David said, showing them the victims head wound. "Bullet's embedded in the brain; I'll remove it at autopsy."

"Suicide?" asked Warrick as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"That was my thought, but there's no sign of a murder weapon or gun shot residue anywhere on the body besides his head." David told them. "Which can be attributed to blow back from the shot."

"So we're lookin' at a homicide." Warrick surmised.

"I would think so. I didn't find any ID on the body, or a watch or wedding ring. It's likely that he may have been robbed." David packed up his kit. "I'll leave you guys to it."

"Thanks Dave." Phoebe told him as he got up and walked away. She squatted down and got out her flashlight, looking over the body. "Homeless?"

Warrick shook his head. "I don't think so." He looked at the label on the man's jacket. "Custom made Boss. These are a few grand a piece, more for alterations."

"I'm not gonna ask how you know that." Phoebe said without looking at him.

Warrick grinned. "Probably a good idea." He said, checking out the victim's fingernails. He removed a wooden skewer from his kit and scraped the dirt under the man's nails into a bindle.

Phoebe swabbed the bullet wound and returned the sample to her kit. She was examining the front of the man's shirt when Warrick let out a low whistle. She looked up. He was tape-lifting the dirt from the man's shoes and had lifted up his pant leg to gain better access when he'd found a major piece of evidence; the man was wearing an ankle holster.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked Phoebe, shining his torch up at her.

"Shot with his own gun." Phoebe realized. "Cold." She picked up the brand name suit jacket and scanned it with her torch. Seeing something on the fabric, Phoebe got her tweezers and shone the torch over the jacket.

"What've you got?" Warrick asked.

"Looks like a hair." Phoebe said, plucking it off the jacket and looking at it more closely. "Not human. Maybe a cat; although it's kind of thick." She put the hair into evidence.

"Okay." Warrick started. "We got a well-dressed guy in the skanky part of Vegas. He's got no ID, no possessions."

"What're you thinking?" Phoebe asked.

"Stripper." Warrick told her. "Screw, steal and make tracks. Picks up a lady, they do their thing, she kills him and takes everything he's got."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Motive?"

"Drugs, bills, kids." Warrick listed. "Who knows?"

"Okay, say it was a stripper. He's a big guy. Unless he was a cubby chaser, I'm assuming he could overpower her."

"Maybe she killed him before he got a chance to defend himself. Right after she'd had her way with him."

"Then why would she re-dress him?" Phoebe persisted. "And by the way his clothes are sitting; he was wearing them when he was shot."

"Do you enjoying shooting me down?" Warrick asked smirking.

"Yeah. And it helps that I'm good at it." Phoebe told him.

The pair of them processed the body for another hour but didn't find anything else of any use. And the fact that there was no blood at the scene or any shell casings which suggested the victim had been killed somewhere else.

**xxx**

When they arrived back at the lab, Warrick went to see how David was going with the autopsy while Phoebe took all their evidence to Greg. She found him and Nick in the lab. They were discussing some kind of metal enhancer when she entered, her arms carrying all the evidence from the scene.

"Hey boys." She said, dumping the contents of her hand onto an empty desk. "Busy?"

"Not for you." Greg said, coming over to her. "What do you need?"

"Warrick and I have a dead body found by the marina. No ID, no leads." She handed Greg the lifted prints of the victims' shoes. "Can you test these dirt elements? We know he wasn't killed by the water so we need to know where to look for our killer."

"Get a murder weapon?" Nick inquired.

"No, not yet." Phoebe told him. "But there's a bullet lodged in the vic's brain. Maybe we'll get lucky." Phoebe gathered up the rest of her evidence. "I'll be next door if you need me."

Greg and Nick watched Phoebe leave, Greg a little more obviously than Nick. "Aw, man." Greg turned back to Nick with a look of glee on his face. "We are getting the hottest women in Vegas working here! First Sara, now Phoebe. How's a man supposed to work?"

Nick picked up the results of his metal analysis. "Greg-o, you'll waste you're life asking that question." Greg just scoffed in reply as he watched Nick leave the room.

Phoebe ran tests on the blood from the bullet wound, hoping to find the victim in the DNA database. But these searches could take from seconds to hours before they turned up a hit. So while she waited on that; Phoebe began to test the possible cat hair.

**xxx**

Down in the basement, Warrick watched David finish up the autopsy. He'd already retrieved the bullet. A 9 caliber slug from a handgun. Warrick had it waiting in a bag so he could take it to be tested upstairs when he was finished.

"COD was definitely the bullet to the head. His brain practically disintegrated upon impact. And I think the theory he was homeless can be demolished." David said to Warrick. "His teeth have been straightened, whitened and maintained. Plus, his blood analysis shows signs of a recent flu vaccination. Probably within the last couple of days." David picked up a container near the body that was filled with a rather gross looking liquid; the victim's stomach contents. "He ate well. Lobster ravioli and what looks like fine champagne. Not exactly something one can steal from a garbage can."

Warrick thanked Dave, grabbed his bagged bullet and headed upstairs to find Phoebe. She was in one of the labs going over the rest of their evidence. As he walked closer to her he saw that she was reading a sheet of paper with a confused look on her face. "Hey." He said as he arrived at the door. "What's up?"

She held up the paper she was holding. "I just tested that hair we found on the vic."

"Not feline?" Warrick asked, taking the paper from her.

"No, its feline alright." She said nodding. "But it's not from a regular cat. It's from a tiger."


	7. Here Kitty

**HERE KITTY**

Phoebe and Warrick took their break together when they were paged by Greg. On the way to the lab, they discussed the tiger hair. "How many places can you find a tiger in Vegas?" Phoebe asked Warrick.

"You'd be surprised. They're frequently used in stage shows and zoos." Warrick told her. "Then there are you're run-a-the-mill crazies who collect rare animals."

"I'll test if for dyes and concealants." Phoebe said. "That should tell us if it came off a live animal or a mounted centerpiece." Warrick nodded in reply as they entered the lab.

"What've you got for us, buddy?" Warrick asked.

"Results." Greg said, handing Phoebe a clipboard with some papers attached. "You had three different minerals on that guy's shoe. Sand, earth and powdered clay."

"Weird combination." Phoebe mused, looking over the results.

"Even weirder when you add in the fact that the sand was chemically died blue." Greg told her.

"Like those bottles of sand with all the colours?" Warrick asked.

"Exactly." Greg nodded. "The sand is dyed and then sealed to hold the colour."

"Anything else?" asked Warrick.

"The clay is store bought." Greg told them. "Expensive, too. Had all these chemicals in it to keep it from crumbling when it's moulded."

"Doesn't explain what its doing on this guy's shoe, though." Phoebe brought up.

"Anything on the bullet?" Warrick continued.

"Ah yeah." Greg said, turning and retrieving another sheet of paper. "Came from a handgun registered to a Michael White. No photo ID but he fits the description of your vic." He handed the printout to Warrick.

Warrick scanned it over. "Thanks, Greg."

Greg nodded. "You're welcome." Then he watched them both leave the lab.

"Here." Warrick handed the information on Michael White to Phoebe. "Why don't you go downtown and get Brass onto this? He might be able to locate the guy. I'll do that test on the tiger hair."

"By myself?" Phoebe asked quizzically. "Really?"

"Yeah." He patted her shoulder. "You'll be fine."

Phoebe managed to find her way to the police station without getting lost. She walked straight to Captain Brass's office, knocking on the door as she walked in. "Hello, hello!" She said brightly.

"Ah, Miss. Parker." Brass said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to run a search on this fellow." Phoebe said handing him the printout with of Michael's information. "We just pulled a bullet from his gun out of the marina body."

Brass nodded and started inputting the information into his laptop. "I'll see what I can find, but these things can take awhile."

They were interrupted by Phoebe's phone ringing. "Sorry." She checked the caller ID and say that it was Warrick. "I'll be right back." She said to Brass, exiting his office and going out into the hall. She answered her phone. "Yeah, Warrick?"

"You want the good news or the great news?" Warrick answered.

"Either or; take your pick." Phoebe replied.

"Good news; I tested the cat hair. Found traces of concealant. You were right; there's a stuffed tiger somewhere in Vegas missing a hair." Warrick said.

"How many taxidermists are there in Vegas that specialize in tigers?" Phoebe put to him.

"That's my next project." Warrick told her. "Okay, the great news? You ID'd our victim."

"I did?" Phoebe asked, confused. "Wait, what?"

"Your search on the DNA came up with a hit." Warrick told her.

"Really? I set that up hours ago; I gave up on it." Phoebe told him.

"Let that be a lesson to you." Warrick continued. "Anyway, our victim is a Mr. Harrison Jones. Some big shot business tycoon. The wife is on her way to ID the body so get back here as soon as you can."

"I will; thanks." Phoebe hung up the phone and went back into Brass. He was collecting a printout. He turned and handed it to her. It was a copy of a weapons license for Michael White; complete with photo ID.

"You're vic?" he asked.

"No." Phoebe told him. "But maybe our killer. Thanks."

Warrick had given up searching for taxidermists on the CSI database and had gone for the old-fashioned way instead; the Yellow Pages. He'd called six different places already but none of them had ever stuffed a tiger. He was called away from his searching when Mrs. Amanda Jones had come up from the morgue. She was waiting in the interview room when Warrick entered.

"Mrs. James? My name is Warrick Brown. I'm very sorry for your loss." Warrick told her as he sat down.

Mrs. Jones merely nodded. She was wearing a light blue, tailored pants-suit and her hair was pulled tightly back into a bun. She didn't look sad or traumatized. In fact, her face was expressionless. "What happens to my husband's body now?"

"Well, we can't release it until tomorrow." Warrick told her. "There's a lot of paperwork involved."

"Spare me the formalities, Mr. Brown." Amanda told him. "I'm a lawyer; I know the routine. All I want is to be able to bury my husband."

"Of course; I understand." Warrick told her. "But I need to ask you a few questions first."

"Fine." Amanda agreed.

Warrick continued. "Did your husband own a gun?"

Amanda nodded. "Yes. He kept it in an ankle holster or his desk in his office. He loved that thing."

"Did he have any enemies that you know of?" Warrick asked.

Amanda laughed dryly. "Mr. Brown, my husband was a very influential man. There was always someone trying to steal his thunder." She sighed. "But I can't name a specific person, no."

"Do you and your husband own any stuffed wild animals?" Warrick asked.

"You mean like a moose head? No." Amanda shook her head. "Harry found that kind of thing vulgar." A loud beeping sound went off and Amanda reached for her pager. "That's my office." She said, getting to her feet. "Are we done here?"

"One more thing, actually, Mrs. Jones." Warrick said, standing to stop her. "Do you know if your husband knew a man named Michael White?"

"I've never heard of him, sorry." Amanda replied as she dug around in her handbag for her cell phone. She was already yelling at someone on the other end of the line before she'd left the interview room.

Warrick sighed and went out into the hall. Phoebe was coming in his direction, but was looking at Mrs. Jones walk by. She turned to Warrick and pointed at Amanda. "Was that the wife?"

"Yeah." Warrick nodded.

"She looked...not sad." Phoebe looked back at her again.

"People deal with death in different ways." Warrick told her.

"Michael White is unavailable. His office claims he's not in, there's no answer at his home number and his cell goes straight to voicemail." Phoebe informed Warrick.

Warrick sighed. "So we got nothing?"

"Well, his secretary wouldn't give too much away but when I asked to speak with his wife, she told me he wasn't married." Phoebe said. "Other than that she was a total bitch."

"Alright, calm it down over there." Warrick told her. "Let Brass know; he might be able to grease the wheels."

"I already did, he's gonna call me if he gets anywhere." Phoebe told Warrick. "Did Mrs. Jones mention anything about a big-ass tiger?"

"No, she claims her husband found that kind of thing 'vulgar'." Warrick said. "And I haven't found anywhere in Vegas that stuffs tigers."

Phoebe closed her eyes in frustration. "Alright so we have a bullet and no gun, a hair with no body and our only lead is missing in action."

"Alright, let's just keep moving." Warrick said as they walked down the hall. "I'll keep searching for taxidermists. You go get us some coffee. It's gonna be a long night."

"Alright." Phoebe agreed. The pair of them parted ways. Warrick head for the lab while Phoebe went into the break room.

Nick was on his way out for the night as he passed the break room and saw Phoebe inside. He stopped to chat to her. "Hey." He said, sticking his head in the door.

Phoebe turned around. "Hey. Wow, you solved your case?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, the jeweler had everything in his store replaced by knock offs to fake a robbery and collect the insurance." Nick told her. "How's yours going?"

"Brick wall." She told him.

"Ah, sorry." He sympathized.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know of anywhere in Vegas that stuffs tigers, would you?" Phoebe asked on a whim.

"No, sorry." Nick said. "But, hey, there's a club downtown that has all these animal heads on the wall. Wild Hunt, I think it's called."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Really? How'd you know that?"

"Well, they have this great lobster ravioli." Nick told her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure." Phoebe waved him off. It was only when she took a drink of coffee that she realized what Nick had just said may have broken her case.


	8. Wild Thing

**WILD THING**

Phoebe ran to Warrick in the lab after her conversation with Nick. "Wild Hunt!" She yelped as she burst through the door.

Warrick jumped, startled. "What the hell?!"

"Wild Hunt. That club downtown. They sell lobster and have a tiger head." Phoebe was so happy that she didn't realize she wasn't making any sense.

"Alright, I didn't get any of that." Warrick said getting to his feet. "Are you high?"

Phoebe took a breath. "No, listen to me." She continued slowly. "Nick told me that there is a club downtown called Wild Hunt and they have stuffed animal heads all over the place. The kicker is they serve lobster ravioli."

"Ahh, Harry Jones' last meal." Warrick realized. "Right. Let's call Brass and get partying."

It was about three am by the time Captain Brass, Warrick and Phoebe arrived at Wild Hunt. There was a line halfway down the street; even at this hour. Brass flashed his badge and got them straight through the front door.

Phoebe was in awe of this place. Nothing much shocked her anymore seeing as she lived in Vegas and worked with dead bodies, but this place was over the top. All the waitresses were dressed as animals--if animals wore printed bikinis and stilettos. Nick wasn't kidding; there were animal heads all over the place. And Phoebe could tell they were real. Tacky as it may be to Phoebe; everything in this club was top of the line; including the decorations.

Brass and Phoebe went to talk to the owner to Warrick wandered around the club. He spied two tiger heads in the room. One white and one black and orange. He took a sample of hair from each of the heads and wandered around while he waited for his partner.

Captain Brass directed Phoebe over to the bar and flagged down the bartender. An attractive male waitress came over to them. "What can I get you?"

Brass showed him his badge. "Some answers." He said.

"Have you seen this man before?" Phoebe asked the bartender, showing him the photo of Harrison Jones.

"Harry? Oh yeah, comes in here all the time." The bartender told them. "Was in here last night."

"He with anyone?" Brass asked.

"Yeah, some guy. I remember noticing because Mr. Jones is usually in here with his lady of the moment." The bartender said.

"I take it you don't mean his wife." Phoebe brought up.

"No, but she comes in here every now and then with different men." The bartender continued. "I think they have some kind of agreement."

"Don't ask, don't tell." Phoebe stated. "Is this the guy you saw Mr. James with?" She pulled out the gun license photo of Michael White.

"Yeah, that's him." The bartender nodded, looking at it. "He didn't really belong with this crowd, if you get me."

"Yeah, I get you." Brass said. "Thanks." The bartender walked off to serve someone waiting at the bar.

"Hey, I got samples of both tiger heads." Warrick said as he walked over to them.

"Nice." Phoebe praised him.

Brass sighed. "Well, the bartender confirmed Mr. Jones was here last night with our MIA Mr. White."

"I'll get back to the lab and test these." Warrick said, holding up the hairs as the three of them headed out of the club.

"Did you get anything from White's secretary?" Phoebe asked Brass.

"No, she won't talk to me without a warrant." Brass said. "Soon as a Judge wakes up, I'm going back down there."

"What about Mrs. James?" Warrick brought up.

"She said she didn't know Michael White." Phoebe reminded him.

"Still, I think there's more than what she's telling us." Warrick said.

Warrick and Phoebe went one way after they left the club as Brass went the other. He was on his way home while they were heading out to an early breakfast. After bad pancakes and lukewarm coffee, they went back to the lab where they tested the tiger hairs from the club. They confirmed that the hair they found on Harrison's body matched the Bengal tiger head from Wild Hunt. They still had no leads on Michael White and, since it was looking more and more like he was guilty, they needed to find him as quick as they could.

Brass called Phoebe at about seven am with a warrant for Michael White's office. Phoebe and Warrick flipped a coin. She was going to the office with Brass while he went to see Mrs. Jones again.

Phoebe found her way to the building and made her way up to Michael White's office. Brass was inside talking to a police officer while a surly looking woman, that Phoebe assumed was the secretary, stood by watching.

As Phoebe walked in, Brass turned to her holding up a plastic evidence bag. Inside of it was a lipstick container. "Not really your shade." Phoebe quipped as she came in.

Brass handed her the bag. "I found this in White's top desk drawer. And unless he's a cross-dresser, he's got a lady-friend I think we should know about."

"I'll get it straight to Greg." Phoebe said. "Did you get anything from the secretary?"

"No. She's sealed up tighter then a sumo wrestler in a phone booth." Brass said. "We're taking her down the station. Let me know what that turns up." He pointed to the lipstick.

**xxx**

Phoebe went back CSI headquarters to find that Warrick was still at Amanda Jones house so she went straight to the lab. After dealing with Greg's flirty advances, he took her lipstick and tested it for her. Twenty minutes later, he was calling her back into the lab with results.

"You are gonna be loving me." Greg told Phoebe proudly. "Seems as though Mrs. Jones was involved in a little bita drug dealin' before she passed the bar. Ran her DNA and came up with a possession charge from a few years back"

"You're kidding me." Phoebe said, taking the results.

Greg shook his head. "She's the owner of your rose shade lipstick." Greg smiled. "I'll take that love now." Phoebe gave him a look. "Sorry." He added quickly.

Phoebe left the lab and took her phone out of her pocket, punching in Warrick's number as quick as she could.

"Warrick. Amanda is having an affair with White." She said into the phone.

"What?" Warrick replied.

"Brass found her lipstick in his office." Phoebe told him. "What did Amanda say?"

"Nothing yet. I haven't gotten a hold of her." Warrick said. "I've been waiting here for an hour. Her office says she's meeting a client but her maid seems to think she'll be home any minute."

"What do you think?" Phoebe stopped walking down the hall.

"I think we got a Bonnie and Clyde situation going on here." Warrick admitted to Phoebe. "There's an officer whose gonna stake out the house; I'm coming back to the lab."

"Okay, see you soon." Phoebe hung up the phone and went into the break room. She sat on the couch and rested her head back with her eyes closed.

"Hard day?" Grissom said from the doorway.

Phoebe opened her eyes and looked at him. "You could say that. I think Warrick and I were scammed and a murderer and his accomplice have gotten off Scott free."

"What does the evidence say?" Grissom asked her. "Where did it lead you?

"It gave us the murderer, but we haven't been able to locate him. It told us the wife of the victim was sleeping with the killer and that the vic and his assassin shared a meal at Wild Hunt the night he was killed."

"Are there any bases you haven't covered?" Grissom asked.

"No. We've exhausted every theory we had. There's no more evidence." Phoebe said regretfully.

"Then your job is done." Grissom said simply.

"I didn't solve the case." Phoebe told him.

"Solving cases isn't your job." Grissom told her. "You collect, process and follow evidence. And by doing that you hopefully give families closure. We rely on what's real, what can't lie. If that leads you to a dead end...then that's where you have to let it go, Phoebe."

Phoebe looked away from him.

"Go home, get some rest." He told her, heading back down the hall. "See you tonight."

"Yeah." Phoebe said quietly. But instead of getting up, she lay down on the couch, closed her eyes. It was the first time she'd never solved a case before. She hated that she'd let herself be played by these two people and now they'd gotten away with murder. And apparently, she had to get used to this. She didn't have long to think about it, though, because before she knew it, she was fast asleep.


	9. Baby Doll

**BABY DOLL**

Phoebe arrived at the crime scene as the sun was setting. This case signified that she'd been working at CSI Las Vegas for one month exactly. And if she finished the case in twenty-four hours, she was going to be treated to drinks by everyone on her shift at the lab.

Phoebe parked her car next to an SUV she recognized as Sara Sidles', grabbed her kit and headed towards the scene. It was her first outdoor homicide. They were in a public playground in a pretty meek part of the city; a place where drug dealers, prostitutes and many destitute folks called home.

The police had managed to clear a space around the scene. Phoebe smiled at a cop she recognized and he let her through the crowd into the scene. Phoebe spied Sara standing beside the slide taking photos. She kneeled to take another as Phoebe came over to her.

"Hey." Phoebe said, taking a look at the body before her. It was a man, probably mid-thirties, and he was lying across the slide with his head hanging of one side and his legs draped over the other.

"Hey." Sara stood up; smiling to greet her. "You're with me tonight, huh?"

Phoebe nodded and returned the smile. "Yep." She looked over Sara's shoulder. "Cause of death?"

"Corner's prelim was blunt force trauma to the back of the neck; we'll know more at autopsy." Sara got out her torch and started scanning the body.

Phoebe kneeled, opened her kit and started putting on some latex gloves. "Do we know who he is?"

"Cops found his wallet. Frank Miller. 33. Not married but there were pictures of him and some kids in his wallet. He lives about a block from here." Sara took out a swab and took a sample of the blood pooling on the slide underneath the body.

Phoebe looked around. "Well, this isn't exactly the white-picket-fence kinda neighbourhood." She mused. "We know what he did for a living?"

Sara shook her head. "Not yet." She scanned her torch over the victim's face.

"Wait, wait, hold up." Phoebe told her, touching her arm. Sara stopped as Phoebe reached for her kit and removed a pair of tweezers. She leant over Sara and pulled a tiny thread from the victims' mouth.

Sara shone the torch on the thread so they could look at it more closely. "Nice catch."

"Thanks. Looks like a synthetic. And it's red. Maybe from a sweater or something." She grabbed a bindle from her kit and secured the new evidence inside.

"Well, you've got fresh eyes." Sara said, standing up. "You stay here with Frankie; I'll scan the surrounding area."

"No problem." Phoebe agreed as Sara carefully started inspecting the rest of the playground. Phoebe collected the particles under the victims fingernails, removed some red fluffy patches off his shirt and put them all safely in her kit.

"Hey Pheebs?" Sara called to her. "Come here."

Phoebe turned and saw Sara with her back to her over at the sandpit. Phoebe got to her feet and went over to her. "What's up?" She was holding a something in her gloved hand and showed it to Phoebe, using her torchlight to gain more detail.

"This is positive for blood." Sara told her, showing her the coin sized fragment with a slight red stain on it to Phoebe. She handed it to Pheobe. "What's it look like to you?"

Phoebe took a magnifying glass from a pocket on her vest and looked at it more closely. "It kinda looks like...porcelain." she looked up at Sara. "How would porcelain get to a place like this?"

Sara spotted something half-buried in the sand behind Phoebe. "From a doll." She realized as she went over and picked up the toy that was sticking out of the ground. She shone her torch on it and turned to show it to Phoebe. The doll wore a light blue, flowered dress that had been stained with a substance that Phoebe knew had to be blood. And her head had been shattered. All that was left was one eye and half of one cheek. There was a red substance over the edge of the cracks in the dolls head.

Phoebe went over to Sara and swabbed the edge of the remaining doll's head. She tested it for blood and the cotton swab glowed bright pink. She looked at Sara and raised her eyebrows. "No way."

Sara smirked. "Death by dolly."


	10. Rockabye Frankie

**ROCK-A-BYE FRANKIE**

Sara and Phoebe headed back to the lab to test their evidence. They had about an hour before the coroner completed the autopsy so they were going to process their evidence. Sara dropped off the thread from the victims' mouth and the red fluff Phoebe had pulled off his shirt to Greg along with a sample of the porcelain before she started testing the blood from the victim and the blood from the doll.

Phoebe had a puzzle in front of her in the form of the baby doll. She and Sara had filtered the entire sand box to find every fragment of porcelain and now it was Phoebe's job to stick the doll's head back together. She had just completed the front of the doll's face when Sara came into the room with a paper bag and a sheet of paper.

"Blood from the doll matches Frankie." She said, setting the paper bag on a free table near Phoebe. "We need confirmation to be sure; but I'd say we got the murder weapon."

"Killed by a doll?" Phoebe said, leaning back to look at the so-called 'weapon' in front of her. "Unusual murder weapon, only good for one hit before the porcelain would shatter. The killer would've had to hit the victim in exactly the right place on their first try." She went back to fixing the doll. "Brass find anything on the victim?"

"He said when he has something he'll fax it over." Sara told her, emptying contents of the paper bag on the work table in front of her.

"Frank's clothes?" Phoebe asked as she looked at the pile in front of Sara.

Sara nodded. "Yeah, Dave just sent them up." She started laying the clothes out flat before expecting them with her magnifying glass. She scanned his jacket and found more red fluff like what Phoebe had sent to Greg. She tape lifted it off the clothing and set it aside.

"Hello evidence." Phoebe said aloud. She turned around and showed Sara two pieces of porcelain she'd just connected. "Serial number."

"Nice." Sara said giving her an impressed smile.

"Y'know, I when I was a kid I knew this girl whose grandmother had a collection of dolls like this." Phoebe told Sara. "I remember once we went over there and broke one of them. I got grounded for two months because it cost three thousand dollars to fix and my folks had to pay for it. Anyway, the grandmother gave us a lecture about having to order the doll specially from overseas from a buyer. So I'm thinking-

"Serial number could trace it to a buyer and we get a possible suspect." Sara finished for her with a grin.

"You know me too well." Phoebe smiled. "I'll run it through the database when I finish fixing Porcelain-Patty over here."

Sara finished up with the victims clothes just as Greg came striding into the room. "Hey ladies." He said. "First one to kiss me gets the results."

"How 'bout you give us the results and we'll think about it?" Phoebe told him.

"I can live with that." He said handing the paper to Sara. "So who's first?"

"Never gonna happen Greg." Sara said, going over to Phoebe.

"Hey, we had a deal." Greg said to Phoebe.

"Yeah, I lied." She smiled at him.

"Hurtful." He said with mock disdain.

"The fibers match?" Sara asked, looking up from the results.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, the fluffy red fibers and the thread from your victims' mouth are from the same source. Most likely a red, synthetic wool sweater."

"What about the porcelain?" Phoebe asked.

"High-class, 100 porcelain. None of the chemicals or powders that you see in knock-off dolls. And high-class means high-cost." Greg told them.

"Thanks Greg." Sara told him. He smiled at her and left the room.

Phoebe wrote down the serial number from the back of the dolls head and went over to the computer.

As Sara went over to join her, the fax machine spat out a piece of paper. Sara went straight over to it and picked it up. "It's from Brass." Sara told Phoebe. "He got an address for Frank Miller. And those kids from the picture are his." She handed Phoebe two sheets of paper. "Birth certificates." She handed over another. "And a divorce record. From three years ago to a Mindy Donahue. Records gave her soul custody of the kids with Frank getting supervised visitation once a month."

"Does it say why they broke up?" Phoebe asked.

"Irreconcilable differences. We'll have to talk to the ex to get a better idea of it." Sara told her as the computer beeped. Sara looked up at it. "Got a hit already?"

Phoebe went over to the computer. "Apparently." She looked at the results. "It seems that this doll came from a collectors store downtown, _Anne-Tiques_. She's a one-of-a-kind."

"Narrows down our search." Sara realized. "You check out _Anne-Tiques_; I'll go see Mindy and we meet back here in a couple of hours."

Phoebe raised her hand. "Divide…"

"And conquer." Sara high-fived Phoebe.


	11. All About Anne

**ALL ABOUT ANNE**

_Anne-Tiques_ was owned and run by a sweet, elderly woman named Anne Fitzgerald. She'd always loved porcelain dolls so her shop was like a dream come true. When she realized that the doll market wasn't all that high in Vegas, she branched out to other antique collectables.

Phoebe entered the store and was overcome by a musty, mothball smell. Apparently dusting wasn't something Anne took as much liberty in as her stock. Phoebe had arrived at the store alone, without a police escort, as she was armed with a warrant to access financial records to see who'd bought the doll Sara found at the park.

The bell above the door let out a jingle as Phoebe walked over the threshold. Moments later, a woman, who looked exactly how Phoebe had pictured Anne, walked through a curtain behind the register.

"Hello dear." She said in a warm tone.

"Hi." Pheobe replied, walking over to the front desk. She took out her badge. "My name is Phoebe Parker; I work with the Crime Lab. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about this doll." Phoebe took out the photo of the re-made doll she'd been working on in the lab as well as a close up photo of the serial number on the back of its neck.

"Oh, Henrietta." The woman said with recognition in her voice as she took the photo.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

"Henrietta." The woman repeated. "All the dolls I sell are from the Grace Morrissey collection. She makes fifty of every doll, names them, and sends one to various stores around the country." Anne looked at the photo again. "This was Henrietta. A particularly fine doll we got in about five months ago. Sold her six weeks later."

"How much do these dolls sell for?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, Grace Morrissey dolls are in high demand so when we get a new one in, they sell quickly." Anne told her. "The prices range from around three hundred dollars to over two thousand. It depends on the size of the doll, the intricacy of the work, things like that." She paused a moment and looked more closely at the photo. "She was broken?"

"Yes." Phoebe told her.

"Shame." Anne shook her head lightly. "The value decreases by half as soon as there's even the slightest crack in the porcelain." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "Was this the dress you found her in?"

"Ah, yeah." Phoebe asked, confused. "Why?"

"It's not what I sold her in. A Morrissey doll's dress is always hand-made from silk and lace; that's part of why they're so expensive." Anne told Phoebe.

"That dress was definitely not silk." Phoebe understood. "Can I see the record of who bought the doll?"

After showing Anne the warrant and waiting for her to read it over, Phoebe was handed a large binder of receipts in remarkably precise order. "Wow, you are organized."

"It pays for times like this, my dear." She said with a light chuckle. "May I offer you some tea?"

Phoebe gladly accepted the offer and set about looking for the serial number in the folder. As Anne came back in with tea, Phoebe asked. "Y'know, if you had a computer, all of this paperwork would be easier."

"Ms. Parker, I'm seventy-three. It would take me five years to learn how to use a computer. And then there are all those programs and the internet...its just too much work." Anne smiled at Phoebe. "And why bother when this system works for me?"

Phoebe nodded. "Fair enough." Anne left her alone to continue looking through the folder. Twenty minutes later, she had what she was looking for. "I'll be damned." She said out loud.

Anne came back into the room. "Did you say something, dear?"

"Ah, sorry." Phoebe got to her feet and took the folder over to Anne. "This is the credit card receipt for the Henrietta doll. Do you remember this woman?"

Anne looked at the folder. "Oh yes, yes. It was for her daughter. She was so excited. We had three Morrissey dolls in stock and she didn't know which one she wanted to pick." Anne laughed at the memory. "I don't remember her mother's name…"

Phoebe saw it in the file. "Mindy Donahue."

Phoebe thanked Anne and left the store. As she headed for her car, she took out her cell phone and dialed Sara's number.

"Yeah?" was Sara's reply.

"Hey, what did Mindy have to say?" Phoebe asked.

"I'm on my way there now." Sara told her. "Just got the coroners report. The doll is definitely what killed Frank. David found porcelain in the wound and I matched it to the doll. How'd you go at the store?"

"Oh, you're gonna love me." Phoebe told her. "I'll meet you at Mindy's."

Phoebe reached Mindy Donahue's residence before Sara. When she arrived with a police officer in tow, she told her everything she'd learned from _Anne-Tiques_. Ms Donahue let them in when they told her of her ex-husbands demise, of which she claimed she knew nothing of. They sat together at her kitchen table.

"Frank and I haven't had a lot of contact in the past few years." Mindy told them. "Only when he sees the kids."

"Ms. Donahue, how old are your children?" Sara asked.

"Freddie is five and Lacey is eight." Mindy told them. "Oh God, when they wake up, I have to tell them their father is dead." She realized, covering her mouth in shock.

Phoebe pressed on. "Ms. Donahue, your ex-husband was murdered with this doll." She showed Mindy the photograph of Henrietta. "And we have records that show you bought this for your daughter about four months ago." She showed Mindy the credit card receipt.

Mindy nodded. "Yes, I bought this for Lacey. She loves these dolls." She looked up at Sara and Pheobe. "You don't think that I did this, do you?"

"We're just exploring all of our options right now." Sara told her.

"I haven't seen Frank in three months." Mindy told them. "He's missed all his visits with the kids accept for yesterday. Freddie's had the flu so he picked Lacey up from her friend's house."

"He tell you why he's been missing his visits?" Phoebe asked.

"No." Mindy said. "I could never get a hold of him. He lived in the damn drug-ridden hell hole. If the visits weren't supervised, I'd never let the kids go there."

"Was he involved in drugs?" Sara asked.

"He used to drink; that's the reason we broke up. I told him if he didn't clean up his act, he'd never see the kids. He's been sober, as far as I know. I don't follow his progress." Mindy said. "He's my children's father; that's all he is to me."

"Mummy!" a children's voice rang from upstairs.

"That's my son." Mindy said getting to her feet. "He has nightmares when he's sick. Are we done here?"

"Yeah, yeah." Phoebe told her as she hurried out of the room.

"She admits to buying the doll, answered all our questions...we got nothing to get a warrant for this place." Sara told Phoebe.

Phoebe sighed. "I believe they call that a dead end."


	12. Red

**RED**

Phoebe followed Sara back to the lab. They both took a quick break trying to think of where to go next. The clock on the wall in the break room chimed one am as they both drank a hot coffee. They rested their eyes for twenty minutes before going into one of the empty offices to review their evidence.

"We've still got the sweater threads." Sara reminded Pheobe as she came across the photo of it in her file.

"No one or thing to compare it to." Phoebe told her.

"There has to be something else." Sara tried to think.

"I know; we're missing something." Phoebe agreed.

"What else did Anne tell you about this doll?" Sara asked, looking at the photo of the recently put together Henrietta.

"She did say that that's not the right dress. The doll was sold wearing some hand-made, silk number." Phoebe remembered. "But all little girls dress up their dolls, no matter how expensive their clothes are."

"But the doll was eight hundred dollars." Sara looked at Phoebe. "Why would she ruin the value?"

Phoebe smiled. "I take it you never had dolls as a kid."

Sara shook her head. "Not really my thing."

"I had this doll once that my mother bought be at a school fair." Phoebe told her. "And she had this long, golden hair that was about sixty years old, in perfect condition. She was a bone fide antique." Phoebe laughed. "An hour after I brought her home, I cut all the hair off."

Sara laughed. "How come?"

Phoebe shrugged. "I wanted her to have short hair. Kids don't care about cost. Why do you think they ask for so much at Christmas? Santa doesn't have to pay."

Sara shook her head. "Okay, let's go back to the beginning. What did we collect at the scene?"

Phoebe looked through the papers in front of her. "Red fibers from the victims jacket and mouth, blood from the wound, the doll and all that porcelain."

"There was still cash and credit cards in his wallet so he wasn't robbed." Sara remembered.

"Oh. My. God." Phoebe put her hands on her head, her eyes wide. "We're so stupid."

"What?" Sara asked quizzically.

"The photos from the wallet, where are they?" Pheobe asked, frantically rifling through her papers. Sara did the same. Phoebe found the photos and sighed. She handed them to Sara.

Sara took them and stared at the photo of the little girl, Lacey, with her father and brother. "She's wearing a red sweater." Sara looked up at Phoebe with a stunned look on her face.

"Think we'll get that warrant now?" Phoebe asked with a smirk.


	13. Daddy's Little Doll

**DADDY'S LITTLE DOLL**

Phoebe sat with Captain Brass in an interview room at the police station. Across from them were sitting Lacey Donahue and her mother, Mindy. Sara sat behind the one way glass watching the interview.

"Lacey, did you and your Daddy go to the park yesterday?" Brass asked the little girl.

Lacey nodded. "He came to get me at Casey's." she said softly. "I didn't want to go with him but Mummy said I had to."

"She never likes seeing her father at first, but she always has a good time." Mindy said quickly.

"It's ok, Ms. Donahue." Brass quieted her down. He turned back to Lacey. "Where did your Daddy take you after he picked you up?"

"We went to get some pizza." Lacey told them. "Then we went to a movie. Then he took me back to his house."

"Was there a supervisor with you?" Phoebe asked the little girl.

Lacey nodded. "After the movie she left. Her sister was having a baby."

Brass turned to Mindy. "We contacted her; the story checks out."

"She's not supposed to leave the kids." Mindy said, mostly to herself.

"Lacey, did you take your dolly with you when you went with your Daddy?" Phoebe asked showing her the photo of the doll.

Lacey looked quickly at the picture and then looked away. "Yeah, but I lost her at the park."

"The park?" Brass asked. "When did you go to the park, Lacey? I thought you went home after the movie?"

"We did." She said quickly. "But there's a park near Daddy's house. He lets me play there."

"By yourself at night?" Brass asked. "You sure he didn't come with you?"

Mindy interrupted. "She said she doesn't know, would you stop asking her these-"

"Ms. Donahue, calm it down or we'll ask you to leave." Brass told her.

"Lacey." Phoebe picked up a plastic evidence bag that was on the floor beside her. "Your mum gave us this sweater of yours." She put the red sweater on the table. "And we found little bits of this sweater on your Daddy. Do you know how they got there?"

Lacey looked at Phoebe with sad, little eyes. Then she looked at her mother. "I just wanted him to stop."

"Stop what, baby?" Mindy asked.

Lacey looked at Phoebe. "He told me he wouldn't do it anymore."

"Do what, Lacey?" Brass asked.

"He was drinking again. A lot." Lacey said sadly. "When I was on the swing at the park I saw him sitting on the slide and drinking. I got so mad." She started to cry and looked at her mother. "He scares Freddie when he drinks."

"Lacey…" Her mother covered her mouth with tears in her eyes.

"What happened next, Lacey?" Brass asked quietly.

"I hit him with my dolly and he fell down." Lacey said. "Then I hid her in the sandbox and ran home to wait for mummy."

"She always waits out the front for me." Mindy said. "I thought she was sad because she lost her doll...if I'd known..."

Lacey started crying. "I'm sorry, mummy." She sobbed. Mindy reached out and hugged her daughter.

Phoebe gathered up the evidence bag and left the room. Sara met her on the other side of the door. "Case closed." She said.

"Yeah." Phoebe said.

"She'll get off, Pheebs." Sara told her. "Eight years old, drunk father. She'll get counseling and she'll be fine."

"You think?" Phoebe asked skeptically. "She killed her father. And she knows it. She'll be lucky if she makes it past her teens without some kind of mental breakdown."

"Shake it off." Sara told her. "You solved the case. What happens after; we can't control."

"I know, I know." Phoebe shook her arms out. "Shake it off."

"Do you know what time it is?" Sara asked her, glancing at something down the hall.

Phoebe checked her watch. "Nine am."

"Congratulations." Sara said.

"What?" Phoebe turned to her.

"One month at CSI Vegas." She smiled.

"Yeah!" Warrick Brown yelped as he came down the hall with Nick Stokes and Catherine Willows.

Phoebe smiled bashfully and covered her face. "Oh come on."

Catherine gave her a hug. "I know we promised you drinks, but to be honest, we didn't think you'd finish up until at least this afternoon." She laughed.

"You're confidence in me is astounding." Phoebe deadpanned.

Nick draped his arm over Phoebe's shoulders. "We were gonna take you out either way, y'know."

"Yeah, that's what they did for me." Sara said.

"Yeah, but you got mad when we went back on our offer." Warrick said with a grin.

"Shut up." Sara smiled and hit him playfully in the chest.

"So what do you want for breakfast, Pheebs?" Nick asked.

"Ah...sleep." She said. "Or pancakes. Whatever's closer."

"We can do that." Catherine agreed.

The five of them happily left the building. Phoebe couldn't help her mind wandering back to Lacey Miller. She was only a child and had just made the worst mistake of her life. And Phoebe couldn't help comparing the fact that in that room, there was a little girl in complete disarray, while she was going out with friends to eat pancakes. It just didn't seem right.


	14. Night On The Strip

**NIGHT ON THE STRIP**

For some people, working the night shift sometimes meant having no social life and sleeping during the day. In short, it was hell. Phoebe Parker was not one of these people. She felt she did her best work during the night. Even as a teenager in Australia she'd worked in a fast food store until the early hours of the morning, often being asked to close the store since she was the only one who wasn't completely exhausted. So when Pheobe had been hired with the Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigators over two months ago, she'd been thrilled when she'd been put on the night shift.

This particular night, she was heading out into what was commonly known as The Strip. It was a place where tourists were as rife as stripper, prostitutes and drug dealers. It was also one of the brightest and most neon of streets in all of Vegas. Phoebe got so swept up in all the craziness that she almost forgot that she was heading to a crime scene. Realizing she'd missed the turn off she was meant to take, Phoebe swung her SUV around and head back the way she came.

Nick Stokes was already at the crime scene talking with the person who found the body. Even though it had just hit nine o'clock in the evening, Nick was wearing his favourite black CSI cap. He also wore his black CSI vest with a black shirt underneath and his favourite jeans. Casual and comfortable; that was his motto.

Detective Jim Brass was also on the scene chatting with a few of the people milling around the alley. He'd already spoken to the person who'd found the body and Nick was just asking a few routine questions to the man. _Did you move the body? Was anyone suspicious milling around? What did you do when you saw the body?_ Pretty basic stuff. David Phillips, the coroner, was still doing his thing with the dead woman's corpse so Nick was killing time until Phoebe arrived.

He hadn't worked with Phoebe on a case in the two months or so that she'd been with CSI Vegas accept once with Catherine on her first day. It was just a random selection of who CSI's were paired off with on cases and it depended on a lot of things. With Phoebe and Nick, it had just so happened that each of them was still mid-way through one case when the other had finished theirs. The pair of them was excited to be working together because they had become good friends. They tended to take breaks together and help out on each others cases every now and again. Nick had even offered to take Phoebe on a tourist's night out in Vegas and show her all the sights. She'd worked in Australia most of her life and when she came to America, she worked in Miami for two years. And since she'd been in Vegas, she hadn't really seen what it was all about; apart from the grizzly murders and drug overdoses. But that was an offer that she had not, as yet, taken Nick up on.

Nick thanked the witness and sent him on his way before heading over to the body. As he was walking, he saw a familiar car pull up behind his own at the end of the street. Phoebe jumped out with her kit in her hands and, seeing Nick, gave him a wave. He waved back before kneeling down next to the victim.

Phoebe arrived in the alley and glanced around, getting a feel for the scene. It was pretty much as dank and disgusting as an alley could be. Overflowing dumpsters, rats and liquids she prayed she wouldn't have to identify pooling everywhere. Nick and David were looking over the victim. From what Phoebe could tell, she hadn't been in the alley for long. She was wearing a leather mini skirt and a shirt that had been ripped open across the chest exposing her bra. Her shoes were four or five inch heels and sparkling with silver glitter. Shoes that Phoebe knew without a doubt would have caused this woman serious pain.

"Hey boys." Phoebe greeted Nick and David as she arrived by the body.

"Hello, Phoebe." David replied, finishing writing down something on his clipboard.

Nick stood. "First case together." He grinned. "Excited?"

"Something like that." Phoebe returned his smile. "What've we got?"

Nick realized he was staring at her a little and quickly moved on. "Ah, as of yet, we don't know who she is. No ID on her. Cause of death looks like an OD; new track marks on her arms."

"I'd have to test her blood to be sure, but I'd say its heroin." David spoke up. "Time of death is unsure since drugs can affect liver temp, but I'd take an estimated guess at around two to three hours ago. I'll be able to be more accurate at autopsy. Oh, and her SAE kit showed signs of sexual activity, I took a seminal swab, but no bruising which suggests it's not rape."

Phoebe eyed the body up and down. "Hooker?" she suggested.

"Or stripper." Nick nodded. "She had about twenty bucks in ones in her purse; also means robbery wasn't the motive."

"Are there any signs there was someone else present at the scene?" Phoebe asked.

Nick turned around and pointed to the man he was talking to before Phoebe had arrived. "Witness says he didn't see anyone else around."

"Anything else in her purse?" Phoebe asked Nick.

He shook his head. "Lipstick, condoms and hair brush. Like most women in Vegas." Phoebe shot him a look. "Not you." He said immediately. "Sorry." He added.

Phoebe smirked. "Have you checked out the body, Nick?"

"Waiting for you." He replied.

"Well, I'm done here." David said, getting to his feet. "Let me know when you're finished processing and I'll get her back to the morgue."

"Thanks Dave." Nick told him as he walked away. He looked to Phoebe. "Let's go."

Phoebe and Nick both opened their kits, snapped on some latex gloves and got to work. Nick took photos of the way the body was positioned while Phoebe set about looking for evidence on her clothing. Phoebe took a sample of the sexual fluid from the victim and put it in her kit. She got out her flashlight and scanned the victims' skirt. She noticed a hole near the hem; it looked fresh. She noticed something caught in the fabric.

"Hey Nick, tweeze me." Phoebe told him, reaching up her hand. For fear of losing what she'd seen, Phoebe kept her eyes on the evidence until Nick handed her a pair of tweezers. She plucked the item from the fabric and held it up on front of her face, shining her torch on it to get a better look.

"What's that? A fingernail?" Nick asked, kneeling beside her to take a look.

"Well, part of one." Phoebe confirmed. "Looks like it got ripped off in her skirt." Phoebe checked out the victims fingernails. They were all fake and coloured bright red. "And it definitely wasn't one of hers."

"Doesn't mean someone else was here when she died, but puts her with someone around the time of her death." Nick surmised as Phoebe secured the nail in a bindle.

Phoebe nodded in agreement as she continued to scan the body. She paused when she shone her torch over her face. "Pretty girl." Phoebe said aloud. She reached out and scraped some of the make up off the victim's cheek. She revealed a large, purplish bruise.

Nick looked over and saw it, too. "Pretty battered girl." He saw something else near her lips. "What's that on her mouth?"

Phoebe looked up and saw it as well. She got out her LSD and it shone an ultraviolet blue light over the victims face, showing a defiant substance near the victims' mouth.

"Not semen...saliva?" Phoebe took a guess.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and it's not hers." Nick said as he handed Phoebe a swab.

"Here's hoping." Phoebe said as she swabbed the fluid.

Nick glanced up at the growing crowd that was being kept at bay by the LVPD. He sighed. "Why are people so fascinated by death?"

Phoebe looked up from the body and followed his gaze. "Maybe it's because, sooner or later, we all end up on a slab in the coroner's office."

**XXX**


	15. Nail File

**NAIL FILE**

Phoebe and Nick drove from the crime scene to the lab. They took all their evidence into the night shift lab guy, Greg Sanders. He was a quirky but likable young man with known for his love of heavy metal music and upfront personality. He also had a crush on Phoebe, but that wasn't anything new. Greg had developed a 'thing' for basically every female CSI recruit, including Catherine Willows and Sara Sidle.

Phoebe and Nick walked into the lab together. Greg's was reading from what looked like a teenage girl's magazine when they entered. The second he saw Phoebe, he quickly put it down.

"I wasn't doing what you think I was doing." He said hurriedly to Phoebe.

"Of course you weren't." Phoebe said with a grin. She handed him two pieces of evidence. "I got a fingernail and a swab of what we think is saliva to test and run for DNA. Then send a copy to Brass to see if he can pull up a record."

"Come on, Pheebs, give me a challenge." He said taking the samples with a wry grin.

Nick handed him another swab. "Semen. Test it, run it and identify its time of ejaculation."

Greg looked slightly bemused. "Aw, man." he said, begrudgingly taking the sample from Nick.

Phoebe checked her watch. "Ooh, I gotta a date with Dave." She turned to Nick. "Let me know if you get anything." She turned on her heel and left the lab.

Greg looked up at Nick. "Is she dating Dave?" he asked quizzically.

"She means in the morgue, Greg." Nick said, neglecting to mention that he'd momentarily thought the same thing and felt a pang of jealousy before remembering why Phoebe was really with David.

**xxx**

David was finishing with Phoebe and Nick's victim when she came into the morgue. "Hey Dave." Phoebe greeted him as she came over to the slab he was standing behind.

"Hi, Phoebe." He replied. "Well, my premature analysis was correct. She overdosed on heroin."

Phoebe nodded. "Time of death?" she asked.

"Within the hour before I got to her." David said. "But what's more interesting is her track marks." David took a hold of the victims' right elbow and showed the inside of it to Phoebe. There were purple bruises and scars covering her skin. "She was injected possibly only minutes before her death."

"We didn't find a needle on the scene." Phoebe told him.

"Maybe she tossed it?" David suggested. He turned and handed Phoebe a paper bag, a folder and a vial of blood. "Victim's blood, you might want to test the heroin. And these clothes and a report of what I've found."

"Thanks, Dave." She turned and headed for the door, but she turned before she left. "Oh, hey. Katie told me she had a great time the other night." Phoebe smiled.

David looked slightly nervous and rearranged his glasses. "Yes, we're going out again tomorrow." He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you for introducing us."

Phoebe waved a dismissive hand at him. "My pleasure. I'll see you."

**xxx**

Phoebe took the bag of the victims' clothes up to the lab, found Nick, and set him to work at scanning them for any evidence they missed. Phoebe took the blood to the analysis lab and began separating the heroin from the sample and testing it. Phoebe loved doing blood work because it ate up some time but she didn't get bored. Before she knew it, an hour had passed and Nick was coming into the lab.

"Hey." He said as he walked in. "Nothing new on the clothes except alley dirt and grime." He pulled up a stool next to Phoebe. "How's that blood coming?"

Phoebe was in front of the computer. She'd just finished breaking down the heroin compounds. She hit print and turned to Nick. "The heroin was majorly diluted. Rat poison, household cleaners, even motor oil." The printer spat out the results and Phoebe handed them to Nick.

Nick looked over the printout. "I checked out Dave's report; he said she shot up just before her death."

Phoebe nodded. "Yeah. And we didn't find a needle on the scene."

"Well, we only checked out the area around the body." Nick reminded her. "That's all we're authorized to process unless something peaks our interest."

Phoebe suddenly slapped Nick on she arm. "Oh, crap, those dumpsters!" she realized unhappily. "That's tomorrow's fun, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so." Nick chuckled.

"Shower me in praise for I come bearing the results." Greg hollered loudly and proudly as he entered the lab. He handed two sets of results to both Phoebe and Nick. "First off; the nail. Definitely not the victims, it came from a male. Ran his DNA through the database and got a hit."

Phoebe found the rap sheet in the papers Greg had handed her. "Darren Trent."

"DNA's on file from a sexual assault charge from a couple of years ago. His girlfriend says it was rape, he says she liked it rough. He got six months probation." Greg informed them. "Anyway, moving on to your saliva sample. It's Darren's."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "He licked her face?"

Greg shrugged. "In the throws of passion, fluids go everywhere."

"Gross, Greg." Phoebe silenced him without looking up. "What about the semen?" 

"Lucky for you Darren is three for three. He slept with the victim alright. And before you ask, I tested his little guys and they 'broke free', so to speak, within about an hour of the victim's death." Greg smiled proudly. "I sent a copy of all of this to Captain Brass so I'll take my praise shower now."

Phoebe got to her feet and patted Greg on the shoulder with the files in her hand. "Thanks Greg." She left the room.

"Yeah." Nick grinned and mimicked Phoebe's slap on Greg's other shoulder. "Thanks Greg."

**XXX**


	16. Hello Darla, My Old Friend

**HELLO DARLA, MY OLD FRIEND**

Phoebe didn't usually work during the day, but sometimes the job called for it. And since she and Nick couldn't really proceed with their investigation until they'd searched the dumpster, which was almost impossible in the dead of night, Phoebe had been able to go home and get some sleep. She drove back to work at about nine the next morning. She arrived at the lab only to see Nick exiting the building with a file in his hands.

"Morning." He said as she came over. He held up the file. "How much do you love me?"

Phoebe realized what he meant. "You ID'd the victim?" She asked excitedly.

Nick nodded happily and handed the file over to her. "Brass sent this over about five minutes ago."

"Oh my god, I do love you." Phoebe opened the file and was faced with a rapsheet picture of their victim. "Darla Fontaine." Phoebe read her name. "Twenty-five. Booked for prostitution on more than one occasion."

Nick and Phoebe headed for Nick's car. "Her mother's her only immediate family. Brass is going to bring her in to ID the body and interview her. Said he'd give us a report."

The pair reached Nick's car. Phoebe looked up at him. "Why can't we sit in?"

Nick opened the passenger door for her. "Because we are on dumpster duty."

Phoebe groaned and begrudgingly got into the car.

**xxx**

"Have I mentioned I hate my job?" Phoebe asked as she tossed another leaking bag of garbage out of the dumpster. Even though she and Nick were wearing protective clothing and thick gloves, she found it thoroughly revolting.

"Pheebs, you have seen bloody murders, countless dead bodies and found fluid in the weirdest places," Nick reminded her. "And you're afraid of some trash?"

"Everyone has their limits." Phoebe told him with a grossed out expression on her face.

Nick smiled and went back to work. He spied something half stuck into a trashbag. "Hey, hey." He pulled out a needle. "Yay me."

Phoebe looked utterly relieved. "Yes, yay you. Now I can get the hell out of here." She heaved herself out of the dumpster and landed smoothly on the other side. She snapped off her gloves and went over to her kit. She got out an evidence bag and took it over to Nick.

"Pheebs, you might wanna get another one of them." Nick called to her.

Phoebe looked up and saw Nick holding up another needle. "She used two needles?" Phoebe asked hopefully.

"No, we're not that lucky." Nick said.

Phoebe went back to her kit and got another bag before going back to Nick. She collected both needles. As she was doing that, Nick bent down and tossed out another trashbag. "Uh-oh." He muttered.

Phoebe snapped her head up. "I heard that." She peered into the dumpster and saw what Nick was seeing. The floor of the bin underneath the bag Nick had lifted and spied at least fifteen more used needles.

Phoebe sighed loudly. "Crap."

**xxx**

Brass was still interviewing Mrs. Fontaine when Nick and Phoebe got back to the lab so they set to work on processing all of the thirty-two used needles they'd found in the dumpster. The good thing about having such a degraded heroin sample from Darla Fontaine's blood meant that it was a very specific sample to test with. Meaning that it was almost impossible for more than one of the dumpster needles to carry the same strain of the drug making the needle Darla used easier to find.

It took almost two hours, but they identified the needle. And not only that, it had two different sets of fingerprints on it. Nick went off to run them through the database while Phoebe called Brass.

"Hello?" Brass answered his phone.

"Hey, its me." Phoebe answered. "Are you done with Mrs. Fontaine?"

"Yeah, we just let her go." Brass told her. "It's her daughter, alright. But they weren't close. She said she hadn't seen Darla in two years, since the last time she needed bail money."

"Did you locate Darren Trent?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, and you are not going to believe where he works." Brass told her. "The Joint; the strip club right next to the alley we found Darla. Our Darren is the DJ, and he came in early today."

"Nick and I will meet you there." Phoebe told him, hanging up her phone.

She went back to Nick in the lab. He was collecting a piece of paper from the printer as she walked in. "Hey, wanna go see some strippers?"

"There's no right answer to that." Nick told her.

"Darren Trent works at The Joint, right next to they alley we found the victim. I told Brass we'd meet him there." Phoebe took the paper from Nick's hands. "You get a result on the prints?"

"Yup, and this Darren is about to have the worst day of his life." Nick told her. "His prints were on the needle as well as Darla's."

Phoebe handed the prints back to Nick. "It's party time."

**XXX**


	17. Joint Conclusion

**JOINT CONCLUSION**

Nick and Phoebe arrived at The Joint about a half hour later. They had both showered and changed because of the horrendous dumpster stink Phoebe swore she could still smell on the both of them.

The Joint was pretty much what Phoebe expected. But since it was only the afternoon, there weren't as many people around. Though the naked dancing ladies didn't seem to mind. Brass was already inside talking to Darren in a secluded corner of the club when they entered.

"It's time to come clean, Darren." Brass was saying. "We got your prints, your DNA and your fingernail. Why don't you just tell us what happened?"

"Look, I don't know what your talking about, man." Darren replied. "I don't know any Darla Fontaine."

Brass nodded a hello to Nick and Phoebe as they arrived at the table. "This is Nick Stokes and Phoebe Parker; they're with the crime lab. And they're gonna help prove that you're a lying bastard."

Nick retrieved a photo of Darla from the folder he was carrying. "Look again." He said, slapping it on the table in front of Darren.

Darren sighed and looked at the mugshot. "Hey, that's Minx." He looked at Brass. "Whoa, wait, she ain't the dead chick, is she?"

"Afraid so, Dar." Brass told him. "So you're gonna tell us what you did last night from the time Minx a.k.a. Darla came to see you."

Darren looked from Nick to Phoebe and then back to Brass. "Look, I've known her about a year; we kick it every now and then. She was all upset and cryin' when she showed up here. Said her old boss had smacked her around, she had a bruise on her face. She came to me asking for work stripping. I told her the guy who does the hiring wasn't here so we just had some fun, that's all."

"Fun meaning you did heroin and then did Darla?" Phoebe spoke up.

"Hey, that's how I roll." Darren shrugged. "But she _walked_ outta here. She took a little sum'mm-sum'mm for the road."

"You mean heroin?" Nick asked.

"It ain't pure; home-made." Darren said, somewhat proudly.

Brass got to his feet. "Well, guess what Darren, that home-made crack is what killed your girl, Minx." Brass motioned to the officers nearby who came over, handcuffs drawn.

"Yo, I didn't kill nobody!" Darren yelled as the officer pulled him to his feet.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Phoebe said with a faint smile.

"Shut it, bitch!" Darren yelled at her.

"Hey, man, back off." Nick pointed a threatening finger at the man as he was being cuffed.

Brass shoved the man and followed him and the officers out with Darren. He turned and yelled at Phoebe. "If I go down for this, I'm coming after you!"

"Might be hard when you're in the joint." Phoebe said more to Nick than to Darren. She turned to her partner. "Which ironically is where _we_ are right now."

Nick and Phoebe headed back towards the exit of the club. Nick could see Brass putting Darren into the back of the police car. "Jackass." Nick said bitterly.

"Hey, come on now. He didn't call you a bitch." Phoebe said with a smile.

"That doesn't bother you?" Nick asked her.

Phoebe sighed. "Nick, in this job, I have been called honey, I've been called sweetie, I've been called bitch, tramp and moron...wow, I should be a wreck."

"He didn't even say it to me and I got pissed off." Nick told her, holding open the front door of the club to let Phoebe back out into the street.

They walked into the daylight. "Yes, but that's because you're my hero." Phoebe said jokingly clutching Nick's arm.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered with a smile.

**XXX**


	18. Bathroom With A View

**BATHROOM WITH A VIEW**

Phoebe walked towards the crime scene ahead of her with her kit in her hands. It was late evening and she was her first case for the week. It had been her day off yesterday and she'd spent it sitting in bed and watching TV; the way she loved spending all her days off. But she was glad to be back at work.

She'd gotten the call about one minute after she'd arrived at the lab. Everyone was still on their cases and it was busier than ever. Grissom had sent Phoebe to help Nick on his case; an apparent homicide in the home.

Phoebe walked into the split level home and passed the number of policeman milling around. Since she hadn't been given the rundown on the case, she wasn't sure what she was in for. She passed the coroner, David Phillips, on the stairs as she ascended them. He was on his way out. They said a hurried hello and David told Phoebe that Nick was in the master bathroom so she headed for the large room at the end of the hall.

Peering inside the room, Phoebe saw Nick standing with his back to her looking at something he'd tweezed from the body on the floor. "Hey Nick." She greeted him as she carefully stepped into the bathroom.

Nick turned around. "Hey." He held out his tweezers to her. "What's this look like to you?"

Phoebe looked at it closely. "Solidified liquid metal...with a white calcification on it." she guessed.

"I'm thinking it's a piece of tooth." Nick told her, collecting the evidence in a bindle.

"A filling." Phoebe nodded in agreement. She moved to see the body better.

"Her name's Kim West. She's 25; lives here with her sister, Mary. Cause of death was a stab wound to the heart with a weapon I've, so far, not been able to find." Nick told Phoebe. "The sisters the one who found the body; she thought she'd just fallen over."

"You think its murder?" Phoebe inquired, setting her kit down beside the body.

"Angle of the wound suggests she didn't do it herself. Also says whoever did do it was taller than she was." Nick told her. "There's a footprint in the blood pool." He pointed to the large puddle underneath Kim. "It's too big to be the victims' or the sisters' so someone else was definitely here."

"David say when she died?" Phoebe asked, pulling on some latex gloves.

"About six hours ago. Puts TOD sometime this afternoon." Nick informed Phoebe. "Sister says she was at work til eight, came home and found her like this."

Reaching over slowly, Phoebe opened the mouth of the victim. This proved to be difficult seeing that the corpse was stiff from rigor mortis, but she managed to widen her jaw. Phoebe got out her penlight and shone it inside. "Her teeth are perfect. No fillings." She nodded to the tooth Nick had collected. "Might be the killers." she glanced around the bathroom. "She's fully clothed. No towels anywhere." She mused. "She probably wasn't taking a shower."

Nick took out his camera and snapped some photos of the footprint in the blood pool. "A bathroom's a good place to commit a murder. It's easy to clean and to get rid of evidence."

"Well, I don't think whoever was here cared about cleanliness." Phoebe countered, nodding to the blood pool. "Maybe it was a burglar who didn't realize he wasn't alone?"

"Maybe." Nick said vacantly. His eyes were on the mirror.

Phoebe looked up at him and saw him staring at him reflection. "Tell me you're not that vain; you look fine, Nick."

Nick didn't reply. He leaned into the mirror and looked more closely, turning his head to the side to gain another perspective.

Phoebe got to her feet when she realized he wasn't looking at himself. She leaned in over his shoulder. "What?"

"Prints." Nick stated.

"Not exactly uncommon in a bathroom, Nick." Phoebe said, turning back to the body.

"I'm taking them anyway." Nick said as he collected the prints. "The sisters live alone, so any unknown prints could be a suspect."

Phoebe nodded but didn't look up. "Did you check for fluids?"

"First thing I did." Nick nodded. "Got nothing. And there's nothing that shows any particular strength, means it could be a woman."

Phoebe looked up at Nick. "You saying a woman can't kick ass as hard as a man?"

Nick smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm not saying that at all."

Phoebe enjoyed playing this game with Nick. "Y'know I could kick your ass, right?"

"Yes, I know that." Nick laughed. "Okay, so the _intruder_," Phoebe nodded her approval at the unisex term. "Stabbed Kim in through the chest; means they were face to face."

Phoebe checked the victim's nails. "No defensive wounds; she knew the attacker." She paused. "Hey, do you think it was a lover's thing? I mean, stabbing in the heart..."

Nick shrugged. "Could be. But any B-grade action movie tells you stabbing the heart is a quick way to kill."

"It's also a quick way to die." Phoebe added. "Maybe the killer didn't want her to suffer."

"Well, hang on there Sherlock; we got evidence to process first." Nick warned Phoebe. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I won't." Phoebe said absentmindedly as she picked up the trash can and pilfered through it. She picked up an empty pill canister and read the label. "Sister was taking Diazepam for depression." Phoebe tossed the container back in the trash; there was no need to collect it since it didn't relate to the crime.

"Vega was talking to her; apparently their folks died a year ago in a boat accident. She's been taking pills ever since." Nick informed Phoebe.

"What about Kim?" Phoebe asked, eying the body.

Nick shook his head. "Nothing prescription; we'll know more when we test her blood."

"Alright." She turned to Nick. "Let's get to Greg."

**xxx**


	19. Medicinal

**MEDICINAL**

Phoebe and Nick left the crime scene and went back to CSI headquarters. In the two hours since Phoebe had arrived there, the abundance of people hadn't slowed down. It was the middle of the year, when a lot of tourists decided that Vegas is the best place to take a vacation. Almost half of them wanted the true "Vegas experience" and that usually meant gambling, hookers, drugs or getting hitched. And if it all went wrong, jail was the next place you'd go.

The crime lab was ran off its feet, which meant Greg Sanders was backed up so if Phoebe and Nick wanted results fast, they had to do it themselves. Al Robbins, the coroner, was also extremely busy so they had to wait for the report on their body.

Phoebe's expertise was in tracing prints and running DNA. She had a knack when it came to technology and was a self-confessed computer geek and proud of it. So while Nick set to work on the tooth filling; she ran the bloody shoe print and the fingerprints from the mirror through the database. The search for the fingerprint could take hours seeing as how it had to search through millions of prints all over the country, so Phoebe was scanning through various types of shoes that her search had turned up. She didn't get an exact match, but she could several possibilities. She had to use her trained eye to match them with the print from the scene.

"I don't think this tooth is gonna help us." Nick said dejectedly. He came over to Phoebe and leant on the desk. "There's hardly any DNA in teeth and I'd need a whole one to be able to test it. I can't even tell if it's male or female."

"Don't sound so beat down, Nicky." Phoebe told him. "Because I got a hit on the shoes."

"Oh yeah?" Nick pulled up a chair.

"Yeah." Phoebe retrieved the paper she'd just printed. "Women's size 10 Paglazelli Loafers. One of the most common shoes in Vegas for the older female."

Nick took the printout and glanced over it. "Yeah, yeah, my Mum has a pair of these; loves 'em."

Phoebe sighed. "Well, every shoe store in Clark County sells these; there's no way we can track down the owner without the actual shoe."

Nick's pager started beeping at that moment. He checked it. "Our turn at the morgue."

**xxx**

"Cause of death was one fatal stab wound to the heart." Doc Robbins was saying. Phoebe and Nick were standing in on the review of the autopsy together. Robbins was definitely busier than they were; there were bodies covered in sheets lining the walls, and even a couple outside the door. "She didn't suffer." Al Robbins continued. "Her heart stopped immediately, she was dead before she hit the ground. No defensive wounds. She has some post mortem bruises on her right shoulder and a crack on the right side of her skull; most likely from the fall."

"Doc, did you find any drugs in her system?" Nick asked.

Al shook his head. "No, nothing. Stomach contents showed chicken soup and lemon tea. Her sinuses were inflamed and the back of her throat was red. I'd say she had the flu."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "The flu?"

The Doc nodded. "Yes, virus seems to have just got into her system; that's when it's at its most debilitating."

A thought occurred to Phoebe. "The sister said she thought Kim was working, right?" Nick nodded. "So if she was sick; maybe they sent her home."

**xxx**

Nick and Phoebe had found out through Mary West that her sister worked at café called _Tastes Like Home_ just out of the city. Phoebe drove the pair of them in her SUV to the café as they followed Detective Vega. They chatted the whole way there, mostly over pointless little things, but Phoebe enjoyed that kind of aimless, inane chatter. And Nick was right there with her, matching her quirky comments and understanding them as well. Most people she talked with like that didn't 'get' what she was talking about, some thinking there was more to what she was saying. Really, Phoebe just said what was in her head at that moment, as meaningless as it was. And Nick seemed to enjoy that.

The owner of the café was a middle-aged man named Neil Roberts. He was busily working in the kitchen when Vega, Nick and Phoebe arrived and only stopped when they told him that Kim was dead. He escorted them to the back of the store in a hallway so they could speak.

"Poor Kim." Neil shook his head sadly. "She was a good girl; a good worker. Everyone here loved her."

"Mr. Roberts, was Kim sick yesterday?" Phoebe brought up.

Neil nodded. "Yes, she was sneezing and coughing all over the place; I had to send her home. You can't let customers see a sick waitress; lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Did you know of any enemies Kim may have had?" Nick asked.

"No, no. But I didn't know her that well; she's only been working here for three months." Neil told them. "But in her first week here, a guy showed up. An ex-boyfriend from what a gathered. He hung around outside until the end of her shift; put off my customers. I told him to move; he just waited across the street. I told Kim if he came back; she'd lose her job." Neil shrugged. "I never saw him again."

"What'd this gut look like?" Vega asked, taking out a small notebook and a pen.

"Young guy, in his twenties. White. Shaved head and a tattoo of a snake or something down his neck." Neil remembered.

"That's a very thorough description." Nick noted.

"After about fifty complaints he stuck in my head." Neil explained.

"You get a name?" Vega asked as he hurriedly wrote down the man's description.

Neil shrugged. "I didn't ask; she never said. I figured it was a bad-break up. But he never bothered her again so I assumed she'd resolved it."

Vega nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts. We'll contact you if we need anything else."

Phoebe and Nick followed the Detective back out to his car in front of the café. "I'll go check with the sister; see if she knows anything about this guy. I'll call you."

"Thanks, Sam." Nick told him as he got in his car.

He drove off and Nick and Phoebe head for her SUV. "We have to get back to that house." Nick said to Phoebe.

She raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Something's show up better in the daylight." Nick told her.

"Poetic." Phoebe smiled.

**xxx**


	20. String

**STRING**

Nick and Phoebe went back to the West household and started searching downstairs. They'd searched upstairs where the bathroom was the night before, but they hoped that maybe they'd find something new on the first floor; something that could break their case. Phoebe started in the kitchen. She took all the knives she could find into evidence as possible murder weapons. She wandered into the living room, scanning various photos of the sisters with their parents.

In the home office, Nick was searching over papers on the desk; careful not to disturb anything too much. The computer was off and cold and the keyboard had an undisturbed coat of dust on it; meaning it hadn't been used in probably the last day or so. Nick sat in the desk chair and inspected the drawers. He didn't find anything helpful. He leaned back and sighed. Then something caught his eye in the wastebasket. He picked up the bin and reached inside. He pulled out what looked like a piece of bandage with a definite blood stain on it.

"Hey Pheebs!" Nick called, getting a swab from the pocket in his vest and wiping it over the red stain.

Phoebe appeared at the door. "What've you got?" she asked, her eyes falling on the bandage.

Nick showed her the suddenly bright pink swab. "Blood."

**xxx**

Nick and Phoebe took their new evidence back to the lab. Phoebe went to work on the knives while Nick ran blood comparisons. After about a half hour; Phoebe went to see Nick in the blood analysis lab. She flopped down on a chair next to him looking discouraged.

Nick looked over at her and read her face. "Knives didn't pan out, huh?"

"Not only did none of them test positive for blood; none of them are even the right size of the wound." Phoebe muttered. "And I checked on our fingerprints; they're still running a search."

"It's been like two hours!" Nick said incredulously.

"I know." Phoebe sighed. She glanced at what Nick was working on. "You find anything?"

"Blood's male." He told her simply. "But it's degraded with some kind of anti-bacterial cream; probably from whatever kind of injury the bandage was covering. Point is I can't run DNA."

"Sorry if I'm interrupting." David Phillips said from the door to the lab. He had a brown paper bag in his hand.

Nick and Phoebe turned around. "Hey Super-Dave." Nick greeted him. "What's that?"

"Doc Robbins told me to bring them to you. They're your stabbing victims' clothes." David held out the bag.

Phoebe got to her feet and took it. "Thanks Dave."

"You're welcome." He smiled. "Oh, and Catherine gave me this." He removed a sheet of paper from under his arm. "Your fingerprint results."

Nick took them from Dave. "Catherine?"

"She said something about needing the…ah, well…I won't repeat it, but she was annoyed." David said anxiously.

Phoebe grinned. "Thanks Dave." Dave smiled and left the room.

Nick looked to Phoebe. "He likes you."

"Course he does." Phoebe replied with a smile.

**xxx**


	21. The Missing Thread

**THE MISSING THREAD**

Nick and Phoebe were both thrilled to finally have the fingerprint results from the mirror of the West sister's bathroom. They belonged to a man named Brian Grafton; a nineteen year old who was in the system for numerous armed robberies and drug possession. His record was a little scarce for the last few years; Nick and Phoebe assumed that was because he was now old enough to be tried as an adult. And the punishments were a whole lot stronger then a few weeks in juvie.

Nick went to call Brass and let him know to pick up Brian Grafton and Phoebe went back to the lab to test the DNA sample on file with the one Nick had pulled from the bloody bandage in the trash at the West home. Though there hadn't have been enough to run a search, Phoebe was able to compare both samples. She wouldn't, and couldn't, match them perfectly, but she found that both blood samples shared three alleles in common. Alleles were portions of DNA that were distinctive to every person. Although the bulk of the population had similar alleles in similar places; they also had one or two that were extremely specific to that person; like fingerprints. The trick was finding the allele common to that one person.

Phoebe was out of luck, the two alleles that matched both blood samples were not uncommon. Even though they matched; it was nowhere near enough to prove they were from the same person.

Sighing, Phoebe leaned back in her chair and stared at the computer screen. She still had the victim's clothes to process but thought that after a good caffeine hit she'd be able to work better. She began closing the windows on the computer screen when she realized she'd forgotten to close the DNA results for Kim and Mary West. On a very high whim, Phoebe compared the DNA sample of Brian Grafton to the West sisters.

"Oh my God." She breathed.

**xxx**

Nick was on his way back from talking with Captain Brass when Phoebe came barreling out of the DNA lab with glee in her eyes. She was waving a piece of paper in front of Nick's face and babbling something about 'matching alleles' very excitedly.

Nick held both her arms to calm her down. "Whoa, Pheebs. Back up; what's going on?"

Phoebe drew a breath. "Ok, I compared the DNA of Brian Grafton with Kim and Mary West. I found _thirteen_ alleles in common."

Nick was stunned. "What?"

"I know!" Phoebe replied excitedly. "He's definitely not their father or son. I'd say we found their long lost little brother."

Nick shook his head. "Why wouldn't they tell us about him?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Maybe they're ashamed. His record isn't exactly something to brag about."

Nick considered this. "Also explains why there are no pictures of him at the house."

The pair continued talking as they headed back into the lab. "I'll call Brass and let him know that we should talk to Mary West again." Phoebe was saying as the two of them past Greg Sanders as he was entering his lab.

Greg stopped in front of Phoebe. "Did you say Mary West?"

"Yeah, why?" Phoebe asked.

"She's at the morgue right now; I just came from there." Greg told her. "She came for her sister's personal effects or something."

"Greg, I love you." Phoebe said gleefully before taking off down the hall. She turned back to Nick. "You start on her clothes, I'll talk to Mary and get back to you, k?"

"No problem." Nick waved her off and looked to Greg, who was simply beaming. "What's with you?"

Greg turned to Nick. "She loves me." He grinned to himself, spun on his heel and headed for his lab. But not before Nick gave him a slap in the back of the head.

**xxx**

Phoebe arrived at the morgue, a file on Brian Grafton clasped in her hand, to see Mary West sitting out the front of Doc Robbins lab. She wore creased jeans and a dark green sweatshirt; her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looked very tired and exasperated; a look that Phoebe saw daily from those who'd just lost family members.

"Ms. West?" Phoebe greeted her as she walked towards her. "I'm Phoebe Parker. I've been working your sister's case."

Mary got to her feet as Phoebe came over. "They won't give me Kim's clothes." She said frustratedly.

"I know; I'm sorry. That's my fault. We're still processing them for evidence." Phoebe told her honestly.

Mary sighed and sat back down. "Do you know who did this, yet?"

"We're working on it; I promise you." Phoebe sat down in a chair beside Mary. "I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions."

Mary simply nodded in reply.

Phoebe took out a mugshot photo of Brian from the file in her hand. "Why didn't you tell us about Brian Grafton?" She asked as she handed her the photo.

At first Mary didn't take it. Then she sighed and leant forwards, putting her chin in her left hand as it leant on her knee. She took the photo from Phoebe. "I didn't see the point."

"He's your brother." Phoebe told her. "You could've asked us to find him; tell him he'd lost a sister."

Mary laughed bitterly. "He wouldn't care." She said. "Brian fell in with this street crowd when he was a kid; smoking weed and stealing beer. He ran away from home when he was thirteen. My parents kept trying to sort him out; put him in all kinds of schools and programs. He just didn't show up."

"Do you know where he is now?" Phoebe asked.

Mary shook her head. "He used to call us every few months for money after our parents died. He didn't even show up to their funeral." She said sadly. "I haven't seen him in almost five months."

"Did your parents leave you a large inheritance?" Phoebe asked curiously.

"It's still being finalized." Mary said nervously, averting Phoebe's gaze.

Phoebe paused before continuing. "Ms. West, can you tell me why we found your brother's fingerprints on your bathroom mirror?"

Mary snapped her head towards Phoebe. "What? He was-he was in my home? In that bathroom with Kim?" She looked horrified. "Did he do this to her?"

_Oh crap, _Phoebe thought to herself. She probably shouldn't have gone into such great detail. She thought quickly and tried to repair what she'd done. "Ms. West, right now we're just-"

Mary was already on her feet. "I'll kill that little bastard." She said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading towards the exit of the morgue.

"No, Ms. West, you don't-" Phoebe started.

But Mary had already left.

**xxx**

Back in the lab, Nick was scanning Kim West's clothing. There were some CSI's who thought this was an almost pointless task. They thought that anything of importance on the victim's clothing would have been picked up on the scene or on the morgue by the Medical Examiner. The thing was, it wasn't the ME's job to search for evidence. And if everything wasn't checked thoroughly, a gigantic clue could be left undiscovered.

Nick was had scanned almost everything that Kim had been wearing and was finishing up on the maroon long sleeved t-shirt she'd been found in. There was a large blood stain over the heart of the shirt, which made sense since that's where the knife had gone through, as well as a cut through the shirt itself.

Lifting the shirt up to the light, Nick scanned it more closely. He could see something caught underneath the shirt collar. Grabbing a pair of tweezers, Nick plucked it off the shirt and held it up to his magnifying glass. It was a cream coloured thread, but not one that matched the material of the shirt. Whatever it was, it needed to be tested.

As Nick collected the thread into evidence, Phoebe came into the room. "Hey." She said, avoiding his eyes.

Nick looked up at her and saw the look on her face; the guilty look. "What did you do?" he asked immediately.

"I may or may not have done something bad." Phoebe admitted. Then she told him all about the conversation she'd had at the morgue with Mary West. "What if she kills him?" she asked nervously when she'd finished.

Nick waved a dismissive hand at her. "Pheebs, it's not your fault. You told her what you could and you're not responsible for what she does after the fact. Okay?"

"Yeah." Phoebe murmured inaudibly, looking down at her feet.

"Hey." Nick said louder so she looked up at him. "Okay?" He repeated.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Okay." She smiled. "Alright, so all the evidence we've got is pointing to Brian Grafton." She looked down at the clothes Nick was scanning. "How'd you do?"

Nick showed her the thread he found. "I'll test it against the bandage we found in the trash at the scene."

Together they confirmed that the antibacterial cream on Brian's leg matched the cream found on the bandage in the West home. So at some point, Brian was in that home with a bloody knee. Nick and Phoebe left the lab together and met up with Brass in the hallway. He walked up to them with a solemn look on his face.

"Hey Jim, what's up?" Nick asked as they came together in the hallway.

"I got bad news on your West case." He said dejectedly. "We just found Brian Grafton." Brass sighed. "He's dead."

**xxx**


	22. Last Suspect

**LAST SUSPECT**

Brass explained to a more-miserable-by-the-minute-looking Nick and Phoebe that Brian Grafton had been found dead in his apartment from an apparent overdose of sleeping pills (an empty pill canister was found near his body) but they would know more when Doc Al Robbins completed an autopsy.

Phoebe voiced her qualms about Mary West to Brass, who agreed with Nick; she hadn't done anything wrong when she'd talked to the sister. Brass promised that he'd track down the last remaining member of the West family and question her before patting Phoebe on the shoulder and heading out of the building.

Nick took a clearly agitated Phoebe into the break room and made her a cup of tea; thinking that coffee would probably only heighten her anxiety.

Phoebe sat on the couch with her legs crossed. "It doesn't make sense. Why would he kill himself?" she said as Nick handed her the mug of tea. "Thanks."

"Maybe Kim's death got to him." Nick offered, sitting across from her.

Phoebe shook her head. "No, according to Mary he didn't know. And wouldn't care if he did."

Greg appeared in the doorway. "Hey guys. Doc Robbins called; he wants you at the morgue."

**xxx**

In the morgue, Nick and Phoebe stood beside the dead body of Brian Grafton. Being a rather slow day at the morgue, Robbins had been able to get to his autopsy rather quickly.

"I just finished up with your boy, here." Doc Robbins was saying. He opened the victim's mouth. "He's missing a tooth. I compared the gap to the tooth you found at the West household. It's a match. Also, I thought you might like this." Doc Robbins lifted up the bottom of the sheet covering Brian's legs and showed them his right knee. There was a scrape on it. "I lifted some blood and what looked like an anti-bacterial cream from the wound. It looks like a graze from a fall."

"I'll compare what you found to the bandage we got from the West home." Nick said. "Looks like he was definitely in that bathroom, though." Nick surmised.

Phoebe didn't say anything. She was feeling uneasy about this whole Brian Grafton situation. Something didn't feel right; Phoebe just didn't think he killed himself. But with Nick following the evidence, she was finding it a lot harder to sort out her own theory. Plus the niggling guilt about her chat with Mary West was still eating at the back of her mind. Snapping out of her little mental self-mutilation, Phoebe listened in to what Doc Robbins was saying.

The Doc lifted up Brian's elbows and showed them the inside of them. "I found these." There were old track marks only slightly visible on his skin.

"They're old." Nick observed as he looked over the marks. "This guy hasn't used in months."

"Not intravenously." Phoebe pointed out.

Doc Robbins nodded at her. "I found high traces of Hexadron in his system."

"Sleeping pills." Nick said to Phoebe, remembering their conversation with Brass earlier.

"The only thing I found in his stomach was some cheap whiskey." Doc Robbins continued.

"Alcoholic?" Phoebe guessed.

Doc Robbins shook his head. "No, his liver is actually in quite good condition. There is some damage from drug use but it was healing. If I had to make a guess, I'd say he'd been clean almost three months." The Doc turned around to his work bench. "The reason I called you down here is this." He turned back with a beaker with a small amount of sepia coloured liquid in it in his hand. "The victim's stomach contents. I just had Greg test it. The Hexadron is mixed in with the alcohol."

"I'll be damned." Nick muttered incredulously.

Doc Robbins nodded. "I think its very likely Brian Grafton was poisoned."

**xxx**

Armed with the newfound information that Brian Grafton may have been murdered, Nick and Phoebe headed to his apartment to process the crime scene. Captain Brass was there when they arrived. He met them out of the front of the apartment building and walked them up to the victim's home.

"Moved in two months ago according to the landlord." Brass said as they arrived on the second floor. "Worked at an auto shop down the street, paid his rent on time and never had any complaints." The three of them arrived at apartment thirty-two, Brian Grafton's residence. "I'm still interviewing neighbors. I'll leave you guys to it." With that, Brass left.

The crime scene had been cleared so Nick and Phoebe were the only ones inside. Seeing as the first cause of death had been suicide, no CSI's had been through the house searching for evidence. Nick and Phoebe each went in a different direction. Phoebe stayed in the living room, the place where Brian had been found, and Nick did a walk through of the rest of the apartment.

Phoebe took a photo of the broken glass on the floor that had a pool of whiskey surrounding it. She collected a sample of the liquid before taking the glass and all its shards into evidence. She also picked up the empty pill bottle, noted that the prescription was for Brian and put it into evidence.

Nick finished scanning the bedroom, taking a mental note that there were no photos of either of Brian's sister's anywhere in the house. But the place was pretty orderly, especially for a nineteen-year-old with a criminal record. The apartment was quite small. One bedroom, one bathroom and the living room basically summed it up. But Nick supposed it didn't need to be that big for just one man. Walking down the hallway, Nick noticed that cupboard was open a crack. His hands protected with latex gloves, Nick opened the door the whole way and looked inside. There were some empty boxes towards the back; probably left over from the move, but there were also some plastic bags towards the front of the door that looked as though they'd just been thrown in haphazardly. Nick kneeled down and inspected them. What he found threw Brian's murder into a whole new perspective.

Phoebe had finished up in the living room and was now checking out the kitchen. The fridge was stocked and the countertops were fairly uncluttered. Phoebe had come to the conclusion that Brian was trying really hard to make a clean living. The apartment, the lack of drugs in his system, a thinning out criminal record. It all pointed in the same direction; Brian was starting a new life. Although Phoebe didn't have a clue why.

Nick came in at that moment with the answer. He held up one of the plastic bags he found in the cupboard and pulled out a stack of blue, yellow and green baby clothes. "I think I found the reason Brian was cleaning up."

"He's having a baby." Phoebe realized. "That means he's got a girlfriend out there somewhere who probably doesn't know he's dead."

"I'll get Brass on it." Nick nodded, leaving the room.

Phoebe went back to searching the kitchen. She scanned the cupboards and shelves but found nothing she considered evidence. Then she opened the dishwasher. It was an old model, probably bought around the same time as the ancient fridge that was whirring in the corner of the room. Phoebe pulled out the bottom tray of the dishwasher and found a colander, a bowl and a couple of plates as well as some cutlery. She pulled out the top tray and found something much more interesting. A crystal clean glass exactly the same as the one she'd just taken into evidence from the other room.

"Okay, Brass is looking for the girlfriend." Nick said as he came back into the room.

Phoebe turned around and showed the glass to Nick. "He wasn't alone." She said, telling him about the whiskey glass that smashed in the living room.

Nick went over to the trash and pilfered through it. He looked back at Phoebe. "No empty bottle. Maybe whoever put the pills in the drink took the bottle with them when they left."

**xxx**

Armed with new evidence, Nick and Phoebe headed back to the lab. Nick set about testing the cream thread he'd found on Kim West's shirt earlier while Phoebe set about comparing the whiskey samples she'd found at Brian's house. She managed to confirm quite easily that the whiskey Phoebe had collected was the same as what Doc Robbins had pulled from Brian's stomach.

Taking all the pieces of the broken glass to the workbench in the corner, Phoebe took a seat and began the slow process of putting it back together. She'd half completed it when Nick came into the lab with what looked like test results in his hand.

"Pheebs, check this out." Nick said, handing over the paper.

Phoebe looked away from her work for the first time in about forty-five minutes and took the paper from Nick. It was the results from his thread. It matched the bandage they'd found at the West household. "Why is a thread from that bandage in the collar of Kim's shirt?" she asked.

Nick shook his head. "Alright, I think we're thinking about this from the wrong angle." he said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Phoebe. "We're operating under the suspicion that Brian came forcefully into his sister's home. What if he just wanted to patch things up?"

Phoebe followed Nick's train of thought. "The guy's gonna be a father so he figures he oughta clean up his life. Stops the drugs, gets a job and an apartment...makes up with his family."

"Brian could've been in that home for a completely mundane reason." Nick realized.

"Okay...but if that's true then why did Mary lie about it?" Phoebe asked.

Nick shook his head. Phoebe turned back to her whiskey glass and noticed something she hadn't seen before. Probably because she'd been staring at the small pieces of glass for so long she needed a fresh perspective. But as Phoebe carefully picked up the glass she could see a definite fingerprint on the side of the glass. Nick saw it, too.

"It's probably Brian's." Nick stated, looking over Phoebe's shoulder.

"Maybe not." Phoebe said wistfully. "Might belong to whoever bought the whiskey."

Nick was paged by Brass a moment later and went of to call him back so Phoebe scanned the print off the glass into the computer and ran it against all the fingerprints they'd collected from the case so far. She was thrilled to see that it did not belong to Brian Grafton. And she was even more thrilled when she matched the print to its rightful owner.

Nick came back into the room a couple of minutes later. "Brass found the girlfriend. She's only nineteen, too. Five months pregnant. Says they'd been together for a year; the baby was the whole reason he changed his life around." Nick saw the look in Phoebe's eye; the one that told him she'd made the break in the case. "Print panned out?" Nick asked hopefully.

Phoebe held up the fingerprint results to him. "There's just something about Mary." She said with a grin.

**xxx**


	23. Sibling Rivalry

**SIBLING RIVALRY**

Phoebe called Brass and told him that they'd found Mary West's fingerprints on the whiskey glass. He told them he'd bring her in so they should meet him at the station in about an hour.

Now that she had convinced Nick that Mary was definitely a suspect, Phoebe followed a hunch and went back to the West household to the bathroom where they'd found Kim West earlier. She wanted to find something that connected Mary West to her sister's death. Though Nick agreed that Mary was the likely killer of Brian, he wasn't convinced that she'd killed Kim. But seeing as Phoebe was certain something was missing in the case, Nick was happy to trust her judgment.

The crime scene had not yet been released back to Mary West so the bathroom still had blood stains on the floor. Nick set about doing another walk through of the house while Phoebe went straight to the bathroom. She opened the cupboards and saw a selection of regular bathroom items. Then in the corner of her eye she saw what looked like a first aid kit with the lid partially open. Pulling out the box, Phoebe noted that lying untidily on the top of the first tray was a tube of antibacterial cream and a carelessly rolled up bandage. She took both into evidence and was about to go and tell Nick when something caught her eye; something she'd missed earlier. A corner of the bathroom bench was chipped ever so slightly. Phoebe got out her penlight and inspected it even closer. There was a tiny speck of blood on it that Phoebe confirmed with a quick chemical test. Taking a sample of blood into evidence, she got to her feet and went off to find Nick.

She found him out the back searching the garbage bin. They'd had no reason to before, but with the inclusion of Brian Grafton in the case they had to search in more places. As Phoebe arrived at Nick's side, he pulled a glass bottle out of the trash. It was a half empty bottle of whiskey. Nick said as he turned and showed it to Phoebe. "Care for a drink?"

She smiled and shook her head. Then something else in the trash caught Phoebe's eye. She reached in and pulled out a plastic bag with a pair of shoes in it. The soul of one of the shoes was stained in blood. "What's the bet this matches the print we found in Kim's blood?"

Nick sighed. "Bet that drink sounds good now."

**xxx**

The pair of CSI's went back to the lab. Nick tested and confirmed that the whiskey in the bottle he found in the trash was the same brand found in Brian's stomach contents. Phoebe tested the bandage and cream that she found in the bathroom cupboard and confirmed that they were the same as the bandage found in the trash at the house; therefore the same as the bandage that had been on Brian's knee.

Nick was waiting for the results on the blood in the same lab. "So he cut his knee at the West household?" he asked.

Phoebe shrugged. "Maybe he fell. That would explain why he lost a tooth as well." She pointed out. "Kim could've been playing the sweet big sister; taken care of him."

"Then why did we find the bandage in the trash?" Nick brought up.

Phoebe sighed. "I don't know."

The printer spat out the results of the blood Phoebe had found on the bathroom bench. Nick collected it and read it to Phoebe. "The blood on the bench was Brian's. He was in that bathroom, alright."

"This case is all over the place." Phoebe said frustratedly. "Brian was in the bathroom where Kim was killed. Mary was in the apartment _with_ Brian when _he_ was killed. And we still don't have a murder weapon for Kim."

"Someone is trying very hard to make us think Brian killed Kim in that bathroom." Nick stated. "The broken tooth, the fingerprint...basic signs of a struggle."

"Except that Kim had no defensive wounds on her body." Phoebe reminded him. "There _was_ no struggle."

"Right." Nick remembered. "Bottom line? Mary West lied to us. That's enough to hold her for questioning."

**xxx**

Detective Brass let Nick and Phoebe sit in on the interview with Mary West. They were the ones who had the evidence after all. Mary looked extremely nervous as she sat across from Nick and Phoebe. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment; although even innocent people tended to have that looked when they stepped into an interrogation room with Captain Jim Brass.

"Ms. West, why did you go to Brian's apartment last night?" Brass asked.

"Excuse me?" Mary asked obliviously.

Phoebe removed the fingerprint comparisons of the whiskey glass from the file in front of her. "We found your fingerprints in his apartment on this glass." She took out a photo of the whiskey bottle Nick had found in the trash. "And we found this in your garbage can."

"He's my brother." Mary said with a shrug. "I hadn't seen him in awhile." She looked to Phoebe. "And _you_ told me he was in the bathroom with Kim; that you thought he killed her."

"I told you we found his prints on your bathroom mirror." Phoebe said coolly. "You interpreted that how you wanted to."

"All that aside, you were still in his home." Brass interjected. "We found Hexadron mixed with this drink in your brothers system."

Mary looked away from Brass.

"He was cleaning up his act, did you know that?" Brass's voice rose. "He was clean three months according to his girlfriend. He was in a program. He was keeping a job; starting a new life."

Mary turned back to Brass. "He killed my sister."

"No, he didn't." Brass told her. "You wanna know what I think happened?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I think Brian was trying to do right by you and Kim. He came over to the house to patch things up. Kim was home sick from work so she let him in. She gave him a little tour of the house." Brass started pacing around the back of Mary's chair. "Y'know, when I stepped in that bathroom and almost fell on my ass. Those tiles can be slippery." Mary looked down at her hands. "Brian falls, hits his face on the bench, loses a tooth, and cuts his knee. Kim patches him up." He paused. "Then you come home."

"In the first minute we spoke about Brian you told me what a delinquent he was." Phoebe spoke up. "Always after money; never taking responsibility for his actions."

"And here's that little bastard talking to your sister. Maybe you thought he was asking her for more money." Brass suggested. "It's not your fault, right? I mean all he's ever contacted you for in the past has been for cash."

"You're insane." Mary said quietly.

"You probably screamed at Brian to get the hell out. Maybe in the rush he lost his bandage." Brass continued. "You were so mad at Kim, you stabbed her."

Mary shook her head. "I wouldn't hurt my sister."

"But you hurt your brother." Phoebe reminded her. She reached below her chair and pulled out a plastic evidence bag with the bloody shoe she'd found in the trash at the West home. Nick pulled out a photo of the blood print from the scene and laid it next to the bag. "And we found your shoe print in your sister's blood. Leading away from her body."

Mary looked stunned and annoyed at the same time.

"Y'know I had my people take a look at your parents will." Brass brought up. Mary snapped her head up to look at him. "A hundred thousand dollars in debt...that's a lot. But they both had life insurance policies for fifty grand each so I guess that took care of itself. So all your left with is a house and two younger siblings, one of whom you barely acknowledge as your own blood. Then I took a look a little deeper. There's eighty-five grand in an offshore account, right?"

Mary looked away from Brass again, tears in her eyes.

"The will states that all your parents' monetary assets are to be divided equally between their surviving descendants." Brass continued. "You figure you take out Brian and Kim, you got it all to yourself."

Mary gave Brass the death stare.

"But there's a clause in the will; you gotta keep your life in check if you want the money." Brass went on. "You figured Brian would never sort himself out so he wasn't a problem. But Kim..._she_ was the problem. You set up Brian for murder. He's a felon; no one would believe him, right?"

"Shut up, you don't know!" Mary suddenly yelled.

"But then you went to talk to Brian." Brass continued. "He told you he was clean. He was getting on the right track. And man, did that piss you off. He was ruining your whole plan; he had to be taken care of."

"I had to, don't you get it?!" Mary yelled. "I had to! Every day of my life I had to look after them. Every day! When my parents died we were left with nothing. That money belongs to me, I earned it!"

"You haven't earned anything accept a life sentence." Brass said with a smirk. He tapped on the one way glass and moments later two police officers came in and proceeded to arrest Mary.

Phoebe and Nick were set to leave when Phoebe stopped for a moment and turned to Mary. "I just thought you'd like to know, being arrested completely voids the will. No matter when you get out you'll never get your hands on that money."

"Kiss my ass." Mary spat at Phoebe as she was dragged out of the room.

Nick shook his head. Phoebe looked back to the desk to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything and saw Mary's handbag on the floor. She picked it up and looked inside. Tucked into one of the pockets was something wrapped in a handkerchief. She pulled it out and opened it up in front of Brass and Nick. It was a knife. A bloody knife.

Nick sighed. "What's the bet that's what killed Kim?"

"She had it on her the whole time." Phoebe realized.

Nick got out an evidence bag and collected the knife. "You think she'll go down?" he asked Brass, referring to Mary.

"Yeah, I do." Brass nodded. "Money makes people do weird things." He sighed. "Alright, I gotta go tell Brian's girlfriend that her unborn baby is rich." He waved at them before leaving.

Nick and Phoebe left the interview room and went to catalogue their evidence.

"It never amazes me." Phoebe said absentmindedly as she documented her data.

"What people do to each other?" Nick assumed this is what she meant. "Me neither."

"I mean, this was her _sister._" Phoebe continued. "She'd known her all her life. And for the sake of a few thousand bucks she kills her?"

"Well, Mary thought she was due." Nick tried to explain. "And when a person gets into that mind frame there's no telling what they're capable of doing. Or to whom they do it to."

"Yeah, I guess." Phoebe said under her breath.

Nick noticed the too-quiet tone Phoebe had used. "You're not still blaming yourself for this, are you?"

Phoebe looked up at him and shrugged. "If I had just shut my mouth; Brian Grafton might still be alive."

"Mary had this all planned, Pheebs." Nick told her. "She was going to kill Brian with or without what you said. All that did was give her someone else to blame for what she did. And you start feeling guilty for something you can't control then you're playing into her hand."

Phoebe opened her mouth to protest but promptly shut it. Nick was right; she had to let it go. Grissom would tell her the same thing. A case was a just a case. And once you'd followed the evidence and presented your findings, you had to wash your hands of it. Because once you started blaming yourself for circumstances out of your control, there's no coming back from that.

Phoebe gave Nick a grateful smile. "Is it part of your job to keep me sane?"

Nick laughed. "Nope; I do it free of charge." He finished up with his evidence and helped Phoebe with the rest of hers.

The two of them left the storage room together. Nick put his arm loosely over Phoebe's shoulders. "Come on; I'm gonna take you where all CSI's go after a rough case."

"Is it a bar?" Phoebe asked. "Cos you know I don't drink, Nicky, so that-"

"Not a bar." Nick smiled. "Krispy Kreme."

"What the hell is that?" Phoebe asked with a furrowed brow.

"You've never heard of Krispy Kreme?" Nick asked, probably a little too shocked-like.

"Australian." Phoebe reminded him.

"Oh, well are you in for a great night." Nick grinned.

Phoebe giggled. "It's six am, Nick."

Nick just laughed in response, his arm still around her shoulders, as the pair of them left the building.

**xxx**


	24. Phoebe's Dream Job

_**Hey all. Just a quick note, this is my version of the episode SUCKERS from CSI season four changed to include Phoebe Parker. And yes, I realize this ep was in season four and I claim its Phoebe's second year even though she's been there from the beginning in regards to my fanfic so I'm just letting you who like to pick at continuity know and I know that I've done this, lol. I hope you enjoy! I decided to do this ep with Phoebe because I'd had this idea that a cool character thing for her could be that she was Buffy obsessed. I hope you like!**_

**PHOEBE'S DREAM JOB**

Phoebe waited with Nick, Sara and Warrick in the break room for Grissom to hand out their assignments for the night. There were rumours going around that there was a case involving some kind of ritualistic vampire situation and Phoebe wanted in. She loved reading about the occult and vampires and the like. She'd never dabbled into it deeper, but she found the mythology of it fascinating to read and she always had. Then when Buffy the Vampire Slayer graced her TV screen it was like her prayers were answered.

"Vampires aren't real, Pheebs." Was Sara's blatant response when Phoebe told her.

"I'm not saying they are." Phoebe replied. "I just find them fascinating to read about. It's like Grissom and his bugs."

"Yeah, but there's no Bug Slayer on TV." Nick piped up.

"I would watch that." Phoebe told him with a smile.

"Still, bugs are real." Sara continued. "Have you ever seen a vampire?"

"No." Phoebe admitted. "Have you ever seen air?"

"When it's cold." Sara quipped back with a grin.

"Touché." Phoebe replied as Nick and Warrick laughed at the conversation. "I'm just open minded."

"Are you saying I have a _closed_ mind?" Sara asked defensively.

"Yes." Phoebe told her simply. "Guys?" she asked.

"Yeah, totally." Warrick agreed.

"Completely closed." Nick added.

"I hate you all." Sara went back to her coffee.

"Aw, and we love you, too." Phoebe said back in an overly happy voice.

They were all still laughing when Grissom and Catherine Willows came into the room. "We miss the party?" Catherine asked, unable to hide a grin on her face.

"They're debating the existence of vampires." Warrick told Grissom, nodding towards the ladies.

"Is it true?" Phoebe asked excitedly. "Was there a murder victim with teeth marks in her throat?"

"Yes, it's true." Catherine said. "David's on the scene. Warrick, it's you and me."

"Phoebe, Nick and Sara, I need all three of you at the Tangiers; a DB apparently electrocuted." Grissom said, handing a file to Sara.

"Wow, wow, wow." Phoebe got to her feet. "There's a vampire case and I'm not on it?"

"Sorry, Phoebe, _I_ need you tonight." Grissom said.

"Oh come on. I have dreamed of a vampire case my whole adult life." Phoebe told him. "I can tell you the species of vampire, the symptoms and what they can and can't do. And this goes for all vampire interpretations from Anne Rice to Buffy."

"Buffy, again." Nick said rolling his eyes and smiling.

"Laugh all you want. But it comes in handy for a case like this." Phoebe told him curtly. She turned back to Grissom. "Come on, Grissom, please."

"Are you actually _begging_ me for a case?" Grissom asked, slightly stunned.

"I'm happy to take her." Catherine spoke up. "Who knows? Might come in handy to have a vampire expert on the scene." She winked at Phoebe.

Phoebe looked to Grissom like a child hoping they'll be allowed to go out and play. Grissom sighed; Phoebe knew she'd won.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She said happily.

Grissom gave her a small smile and motioned to Nick and Sara to follow him. Nick caught Phoebe's arm before he left the room.

"Don't forget your holy water." He said with a smirk.

Phoebe shoved him out the door in response.

**xxx**

Catherine drove her SUV to the scene while Phoebe and Warrick followed in Phoebe's dark blue SUV. They again debated the truths and lies about vampires, Phoebe happily filling in Warrick on anything he was unsure about. She had a feeling Warrick was humoring her, but she also got the impression that he was interested in the things she was saying.

"Y'know you've never turned down a case with Nicky before." Warrick said suddenly. So much so that Phoebe had to take a minute to register what he'd said.

"What's that now?" she asked, still slightly confused.

Warrick held up his hands casually. "I don't mean nothing by it; I'm just saying. You two have been flirting like crazy for two years-"

"Hold up." Phoebe interrupted. "Flirting like crazy? Are you high?"

"What, you don't call in it flirting?" Warrick said with a smile.

"No, I call it being friends." Phoebe said calmly. "I have the same kinda relationship with you and we're not flirting."

"Oh, you said about that, baby?" Warrick said, playing up the Casanova portion of his personality.

"Oh god, you're a pig." Phoebe laughed, slapping his shoulder. "Seriously, though, don't you think a man and a woman can just be friends?"

"A man and a woman can." Warrick agreed nodding. "You and Nick can't."

"Right, and this is because Nick is, what, a sex crazed freak?" Phoebe played along.

Warrick laughed. "No. It's got nothing to do with sex. Not with you, anyway."

"Uh huh." Phoebe said sarcastically. "And you know this, how?"

"I've known Nick for years, alright? Trust me, Pheebs; it's only a matter of time." Warrick said with a knowing smile.

Phoebe shifted nervously in her seat. "Okay, stop it, now you're freaking me out."

"Oh, sorry." Warrick said quickly when he saw her reaction. "I was just messing around." Then there was an uncomfortable pause between them. Warrick changed the subject. "So vampires can really _never_ go out in the sun?"

Phoebe laughed.

**xxx**


	25. Symbolic

**SYMBOLIC**

Phoebe parked her SUV behind Catherine's car when they arrived at the crime scene. She and Warrick both grabbed their kits and met Catherine at the base of the stone stairs that led up to the extremely creepy looking mansion they were about to enter. It was two-stories high and had obviously been abandoned years before. There was graffiti on the outer walls and the garden was hideously overgrown. And the fact that it was late at night didn't help dial down the spookiness.

Catherine spoke to Officer Sullivan who had come to the house following a call from a neighbour who claimed she'd heard a scream. The officer also let them know that she herself had been there three times in the past couple of years. Two suicides and now a homicide.

"If you ask me, this house is cursed." Officer Sullivan said to Catherine as she led them towards the front door.

"You don't strike me as the type who believes in curses." Catherine said with a smile.

Sullivan turned around. "Yeah, well, I'm not the type to believe in coincidences, either." 

"Is this house abandoned?" Warrick asked, voicing Phoebe's thought.

"Bank foreclosed four years ago." Officer Sullivan told him. "Been vacant ever since." She turned and led them under the crime scene tape towards the foreboding double doors at the front of the house. "Neighbour heard a scream. I was the responding officer."

Catherine thanked the officer, who preferred to stay outside, as she and her team stepped into the vacant abode. There was no electricity so they all flicked on their torches as they went into the house. Warrick swung left and headed into what seemed to be the dining room while Catherine and Phoebe headed down the hallway.

"Tell me, Pheebs, why is it vampires can never live in nice houses?" Catherine asked in a low voice as they walked. "Y'know, the kind with colour and furniture…"

Phoebe smiled. "Well, vampires tend to become vampires because of some kind of evil act they've committed."

"Like killing someone and drinking their blood?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, sometimes." Phoebe told her. "There have been recorded cases of so-called vampires who never ingested blood. For example, some were found to be bathing in it. Anyway, my point is, they became vampires for performing a dark act so they are then forced to live in the dark; no sunlight allowed."

"Or it's Dust-Ville." Catherine surmised with a grin.

"Are you mocking me?" Phoebe asked.

"Pheebs, would I do that?" Catherine replied in a tone that told them both that she absolutely would.

They both laughed lightly as the continued into one of the bedrooms. Before them was David Phillips, the coroner, and he was engrossed with filling out information on his clip board and made no movement to suggest he'd noticed them. Phoebe liked David; so much so that she'd set him up with one of her friends, Katie, in her first couple of months working in Vegas and they were still together now, two years later. Dave was absolutely the sweetest guy she'd ever met. _Except for Nick_, Phoebe corrected herself. Then her mind flashed back to the conversation she'd had with Warrick in the car. Phoebe made herself push all of that out of her head.

Catherine crept up behind David. "Hey." She said, not at all in a scary way, but Dave jumped out of his skin all the same.

"Yeah!" He screamed, springing quickly to his feet. "Oh, hey." He said, looking thoroughly relieved when he saw Phoebe and Catherine standing in the room with him.

"You okay, Dave?" Phoebe asked smiling as she came further into the room to check out the body.

"Yeah, fine." He said in a slightly shaky voice. "Uh, the jugular's been punctured." He knelt back down to the body.

Phoebe and Catherine both shone their torches down on the dead body in front of them. It was a woman. _Well, a girl_, Phoebe realized. She didn't look older then seventeen. She was wearing black clothing, heavy black boots and dark make-up. Her hair was also died black and had been styled into dreadlocks. It looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks. But Phoebe suspected this may have been the look the girl was going for.

David pointed to the puncture wounds on the girl's neck. "Two marks. Possibly bite marks."

"Bite marks?" Catherine asked skeptically. "So this vampire thing wasn't just a rumour round the lab? You think someone bit her neck?"

"Punctures are 32 millimeters apart." David told them. "That's the average distance between the eyeteeth in an adult male's mouth."

Catherine shone her light on the wound and saw two clear, circular marks in the victim's neck. "Right, but those punctures aren't consistent with human teeth."

"Vampires have fangs, Catherine." Phoebe spoke up.

"Fangs?" Warrick came into the room making David jump again. "Come on."

In response to Warrick's skepticism, David opened up the victim's mouth to show not only a pierced tong but two clear fangs on her incisors. "Wounds are deep. She bled out." 

"Then where's all the blood?" Warrick asked, kneeling on the spotless floor between Catherine and Phoebe.

"Lividity tells me she wasn't moved postmortem, so, I don't know." David admitted. 

"I'm going to keep looking around." Warrick got back up and headed out of the room. 

"Pheebs, you're the vampire expert so I'm just guessing here, but if she was bit,  
there's spit, and if there's spit, there's DNA, right?" Catherine asked, shining her torch up and Phoebe so she could see her face.

"Well the debate over whether vampires actually _have_ DNA is-" she saw the look on Catherine's face. "Yes, there would be DNA." She over-smiled to try and make Catherine laugh.

Catherine smirked. "Swab the neck, Pheebs."

"Yes, ma'am." Phoebe said, getting to work.

"Catherine, come take a look at this." Warrick called from another room.

Catherine left David and Phoebe to tend to the body while she went to meet Warrick. He'd discovered a red-painted insignia on the wooden floor. Catherine scanned it with her flashlight.

"This looks more like Phoebe's deal than mine." Catherine told Warrick.

"Please tell me that's not blood." Warrick said, referring to the symbol.

Catherine took out a swab and tested the red paint. She confirmed that it was, in fact, not blood and probably just normal house paint.

"Well, we know one thing for sure." Warrick said, scanning his torch around the empty room. "This place wasn't vacant."

**xxx**


	26. Myth

**MYTH**

Phoebe, Warrick and Catherine did what they could at the creepy mansion in the darkness and headed back to the lab. David took the body to the morgue and passed it off to Doc Robbins for autopsy. Good thing was that, seeing as it was a relatively slow night, he to work on it right away.

Catherine went to inform Grissom of their progress while Warrick headed to the lab. Phoebe, with nothing immediate to take care of, went to get some coffee. In the break room she found Nick already making himself a drink.

He smiled at her as she came in. "Hey Pheebs." He said before going back to making his coffee. "Just made a fresh pot, you want some?"

"Yeah, thanks." Phoebe said, annoyed at the tightness in her voice. That stupid conversation she'd had with Warrick was going through her head. She made a mental note to beat him over the head later on. She tried her best to sound as normal as she could. "How's your case?" She asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Well, no longer a murder." Nick told her. He then told her about how the electrocuted man turned out to be a dummy and his whole accident seemed to be a distraction while robbers broke in and stole a whole bunch of expensive and rare Chinese antiques. "So we have to go about it at a different angle." Nick finished up.

"Well, obviously." Phoebe said with a smile.

"So, you feel like Buffy yet?" Nick asked, trying, but not too hard, to hide a smile.

"Hey, Catherine couldn't even come up with another reason why the Vic had bite marks on her neck." Phoebe said defensively. "Until she does-"

"Open mind?" Nick guessed.

Phoebe nodded. "Open mind."

**xxx**

Doc Robbins called Catherine, Warrick and Phoebe down to the morgue about an hour later saying he'd finished the autopsy so the three of them went down to meet him.

"David says you found evidence of vampires in North Las Vegas." The Doc said with a grin as the three of them entered.

"Well, let's just say evidence at the crime scene suggests occult, ritualistic activity." Warrick told him as they arrived beside the slab with their victim on it.

"That's Warrick's way of saying it _could _be a vampire." Phoebe told Robbins. 

"We're not sure what we found." Catherine said, remaining neutral. "Did you ID the Vic?"

Robbins nodded. "Her name is Angela Sommerville, 20, from Henderson. License was in her pocket. Cause of death: Exsanguination."

"You check out her fangs?" Warrick said, glancing sideways to Phoebe.

"Well, her bark was worse than her bite." Doc Robbins replied. He opened the victim's mouth and removed her fangs from her teeth. "They're acrylic." Warrick nudged Phoebe. She made a face at him. "Check out her gum line." Doc Robbins continued. Catherine, Warrick and Phoebe all leaned in for a closer look. "Thin grooves carved into the canine's enamel. Fangs are clip-ons. Multiple bite marks on the tongue suggest she was still breaking them in.

"Warrick, the symbol on her ankle." Catherine pointed to a tattoo on the Vic's ankle. "It's similar to the one that was painted on the floor of the crime scene."

"The ankh. Egyptian symbol for eternal life." Phoebe told them all. "It's also the universal insignia for vampires." The others all looked at her oddly. "I told you; I know stuff."

Robbins shook his head. "Dracula didn't drink all her blood. I sent a sample to tox. I'm not sure if it's probative." He pointed to some markings on the victim's shoulders. "Multiple incised wounds on the anterior of both shoulders. Some are  
fresh."

"Well, the shoulder area is rich in blood, right?" Warrick brought up. "Heals quickly?"

The Doc nodded. Now Catherine and Phoebe gave Warrick and odd look. Catherine shook her head. "Relevance?" 

"I figure, if you're going to drink someone's blood, it's a good place to start." Warrick explained.

"Then why switch to the jugular?" Catherine asked.

**xxx**

Catherine sent Warrick back to the creepy mansion to see if anything showed up clearer in the light of day while she and Phoebe headed to Angela Somerville's home to speak with her parents. They had already been informed of their daughter's death and were as eager as CSI to figure out what had happened.

They took Phoebe and Catherine into Angela's room which was as dark and dreary as the mansion in which she'd been found in. There were symbols written all over the walls, black curtains and bedspread plus candles all over the place.

Angela was the sweetest child. She actually liked spending time with us." Mrs. Somerville told Phoebe and Catherine as they entered her daughter's room. "Her friends were always over here, and then...puberty hit and everything changed."

Catherine looked around the room and noticed a framed photo of Angela obviously on prom night.

"She shaved her head. Then she grew dreads." Mr. Somerville told them.

"It was like she couldn't get comfortable in her own skin." His wife added.

Phoebe glanced at the bedside table. Every inch of space was covered with a candle of some form.

Mrs. Somerville saw Phoebe looking. "About, um, six months ago, Angela went Goth." She explained. "Black clothing...she only went out at night..."

"We tried to support Angela the best we could." Mr. Somerville added. "We only wanted her to be happy."

Catherine discovered a black, leather bound book on Angela's bed and skimmed through it. "_The Black Veil: 13 Rules of Community._" She read aloud, glancing up at Phoebe.

"Guidelines for Vampires, I think." Phoebe told her.

"Yes, that's right." Mrs. Somerville said. "Angela wrote them down in there, along with all her thoughts."

"So you've read what's in here?" Catherine asked, looking at Mrs. Somerville. The woman nodded slightly in response. "Your daughter believed that she was a vampire?"

"She was 18." Mrs. Somerville started to explain. "She wanted to stand out, to be special. I tried not to judge her, but I also wanted to know what was going on in her head."

"She snooped." Mr. Somerville said plainly.

Mrs. Somerville sighed. "Each time Angela tried something new, I would take a crash  
course." She continued.

Phoebe, who was skimming the bookshelf, pulled out a piece of stray paper. Looking at it, she could see that it was the results of an HIV test:

_HIV TEST RESULTS  
--NAME: ANGELA SOMMERVILLE  
--ID: 3759060X  
--AGE: 20  
--SEX: F  
--E ID NO: 6729-BAMI_

--SESSION NO. 716885 20  
--ER ID NO. 70722345  


Phoebe showed the paper to Catherine. "Lab results." Both CSI's looked expectantly at the Somerville's.

"Angela's HIV test. It was negative." Mrs. Somerville said quickly. Phoebe went back to searching the room and headed to the cupboard. "That was the one thing we insisted upon...not that it matters now."

Opening the closet, Phoebe revealed what seemed to be an alter of sorts covered in more dark candles. The ankh was also drawn in several places on the shrine. In the centre of a bunch of candles was a black and white photo of a man. "Who's this guy?" Phoebe asked the Somerville's.

"Angela wouldn't say." Mrs. Somerville told her. "The statue's an incubus. According to the legend, incubi seduce young women while they sleep..."

"And drink their blood." Phoebe finished for her, glancing at Catherine.

"Well, your daughter was found in an abandoned house." Catherine told Mrs. Somerville. "And we believe that there was someone there with her. Do you have any idea who that might be?"

"Her court." Mrs. Somerville said simply. "I can give you their names."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "Her _court_?"

"It's like a coven for vampires." Phoebe and Mrs. Somerville said in the same breath.

**xxx**


	27. Courtship

**COURTSHIP**

As Phoebe and Catherine left the Somerville's, Phoebe called Warrick and relayed him the names of the members of Angela's court. By the time they got back to CSI, he had the three girls of the court sitting in the waiting room.

They all looked very similar, all in different variations of clothing to what Angela had been wearing. Black clothes, make-up and hair. From the list that the Somerville's gave Catherine, she knew each girls name. The one in the middle was Alice Young, the shorter girl to her left was Cassandra and the final girl who had a more unpleasant sneer than her friends was named Natalie. But none of them seemed to want to answer to their names. Or any of the questions they were asked.

"Alice, you need to answer the question." Catherine said to the girl in the middle of the group. All Catherine got in response was a blank, somewhat bored, expression.

"She won't respond to that name." Cassandra said in a dull voice. "She goes by Luminessa."

Even Phoebe couldn't believe these girls. Sure, she loved reading about vampires, but there was a line that these girls had obviously crossed. The question was, how far?

"Okay, let's start over." Catherine took out the photo from Angela's shrine and showed it to them. "Do any of you ladies recognize this man?"

No verbal response came their way, but all three girls shook their heads.

"When was the last time you saw Angela?" Warrick asked them.

"Who?" Alice, a.k.a. Luminessa, asked glumly.

Catherine and Phoebe both laughed completely humorlessly. "All right, I've had enough." Catherine told them. She cleared her throat. "Your friend is dead. This is a murder case. If you're not willing to help us, we will split you up and treat you as suspects and hold you for 24 hours. Is that what you want?"

Phoebe was happy to see a ripple effect as all three girls glanced at each other. And for the first time since they'd arrived in the waiting room, they showed some emotion. Worry.

Alice sighed. "We called her Daegonna. We were together last night. At court." She sighed again, deeper this time. "She was angry; telling us off about not being true."

"True?" Warrick asked.

"True to the vampire culture?" Phoebe assumed. The three girls all looked at her. Alice even smiled. Although her thin-lipped grin made Phoebe oddly uneasy.

"Yes." Alice said. "You know of the way of vampires?"

"I read." Phoebe told them. "Angela was mad that you weren't acting like _real_ vampires?"

All three girls nodded.

"She called us pathetic." Cassandra recalled.

"Angela had been going to this blood bar." Alice continued. "Wanted us to join her."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "Blood bar?"

"The people who go there, they drink blood." Alice explained.

"For real." Cassandra added.

"Hardcore." Natalie spoke up; her first word of the interview.

"And I guess you girls don't do that?" Warrick said.

"Hell, no." Cassandra said, as though Warrick had really offended her. "And that's what we told her. She totally lost it. She called us _Gajas_."

Warrick looked lost. "Which is...?"

"A fashion vampire." Cassandra explained.

"Normal people who just play dress-up." Phoebe said out of the corner of her mouth to Catherine and Warrick.

"You don't have to drink blood to be a vampire." Natalie added.

"For us, it's spiritual." Alice told them. "We feed off each other's energies."

Cassandra smiled. "Yeah."

"Energy." Natalie said in an almost euphoric whisper.

"So, we voted her invisible." Cassandra continued. "Kicked her out of our court."

"But she wouldn't leave." Alice said to Phoebe. "So we did. And that's the last time we saw her."

**xxx**

From the interview with the three vamp girls, Phoebe, Catherine and Warrick headed to meet Greg in the lab. When they entered, the young lab guru handed Catherine a wooden stake.

"For you." He said to her. Catherine took the stake; startled.

Greg handed a cross to Phoebe. "And you." Phoebe grinned and took the cross.

"And you." Greg handed Warrick a jar of water. "It's holy." He told Warrick.

Warrick smelled the liquid. "It's acid."

"The effect is the same." Greg told him. "Just in case."

Catherine put the stake down. "Are Angela's tox result in yet?" she asked.

Greg nodded. "Blood alcohol level of .14 percent."

"Her friends didn't say anything about drinking." Phoebe brought up, twirling the cross between the forefingers of both of her hands.

"Well, I'm just getting warmed up." Greg told her. "Tox panel detected traces of Thujone. Thujone is the psychoactive chemical found in absinthe, a liquor distilled from wormwood."

"Isn't absinthe illegal?" Warrick realized.

Greg nodded again. "Banned in the US in 1912. Apparently, toxic byproducts are released during the distilling process. Stuff's supposed to make you a little crazy."

"And how would Angela get a hold of this?" Catherine asked.

"Well, this is not coming from personal experience, but according to a friend of a friend of an acquaintance, absinthe is rumored to be served in certain underground clubs." Greg informed them.

Warrick looked up at Catherine and Phoebe with insight in his eyes. "Like a blood bar." He said.

**xxx**


	28. Nightclub Of The Living Dead

**NIGHTCLUB OF THE LIVING DEAD**

The second Phoebe stepped into _Nocturnal_, a blood bar that Angela's friends confessed she'd told them she'd been to, she realized just how timid her interest in vampires was. The people in this club were extreme. All were dressed in black and had tattoos and piercings galore. The bulk of club goers were dancing in a slow, moody way on the dancefloor where a bored looking DJ was spinning turntables.

Keeping close to Warrick, Phoebe followed him and Catherine further into the club. Catherine motioned to Phoebe and Warrick to a man sitting alone at the bar. He was the man from the black and white photo they'd taken from Angela's room; except he was in Technicolor; although he did have an oddly grayish tinge to his skin. Catherine led Warrick and Phoebe over to him.

"Mind if we join you?" Catherine said loudly over the depressing music.

The creepy, thin faced man looked up at them as he finished off his drink. His eyes were obviously dilated and his cheeks were hollowed out. He glanced at each of the CSI's in front of him, paying extra attention to Phoebe and Catherine, before answering.

"Sure." He finally said. "What are you into?" He said predominantly to Phoebe.

"We're into crime scenes." Warrick said stepping in front of the man's line of sight so his view of Phoebe was obscured.

"And you are...?" Catherine raised her eyebrows.

"Lazarus Kane." The creepy man said proudly.

"Did Angela Somerville call you that?" Warrick asked.

Lazarus shrugged. "I don't know any Angela Somerville."

Phoebe stood out from behind Warrick. "What about Daegonna?"

Lazarus breathed a light laugh and smirked. "She file a complaint against me?"

"Why would she do that?" Catherine asked.

"Look, everything we did was consensual." Lazarus told her. "It's not illegal to drink someone's blood. She was into it. That neonate...she offered herself to me." Lazarus adopted a look of dazed exhilaration. He picked up the pendant around his neck and started twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Did she offer herself to you last night?" Phoebe asked, snapping Lazarus out of his remembrance.

"We had a drink together here." Lazarus admitted.

"Absinthe?" Warrick brought up.

By the look he gave Warrick, Lazarus clearly knew what they were talking about. "What's this about?"

"Was that the last time you saw her?" Catherine asked.

Lazarus shook his head once. "No. Later on, I swung by her court and daggered the relationship."

"Is that vampire talk for 'you dumped her?'" Phoebe asked.

Lazarus nodded, holding Phoebe's gaze as he did so. She assumed he was doing this to get some kind of reaction and Phoebe was annoyed that he succeeded.

"How long had you two been together?" Catherine asked.

"For the past three months, she's been my _donor_." Lazarus explained with the same pride as when he gave them his name. He pushed the shoulder of her shirt aside and showed Catherine some scars that were healing over.

"And _you_ were _her_ donor?" Catherine asked.

Lazarus scoffed. "No, it doesn't work like that. Daegonna belonged to me."

"O-kay." Catherine said slowly, obviously confused. Or completely weirded out; Phoebe couldn't tell. "But you were someone's donor."

"Well, under the right circumstances, I'll do just about anything." Lazarus eyed Phoebe up and down again, giving her the same uncomfortable feeling her stomach as before.

"How 'bout murder?" Warrick spoke up. "Daegonna was killed last night."

"Well, I don't know anything about that." Lazarus said plainly. "See, I follow very strict guidelines: Black veil. Principle 11: You never mistreat your donors."

Phoebe looked closer at the necklace Lazarus was fiddling with. "That pendant around you neck? That wouldn't happen to contain blood, would it?"

"Yeah." Lazarus replied.

"Whose?" Phoebe pressed.

Lazarus sighed. "It's Daegonna's, okay? She gave it to me couple weeks ago. I  
offered to give it back, but she wanted me to keep it...said her PSI belonged  
to me."

Warrick looked confused. "Psi"?

"Life-force, blood." Lazarus explained.

"We're going to need that pendant for evidence." Warrick told him.

"And a sample of your...DNA." Catherine told him.

Lazarus happily bared his shoulder to Catherine. "Knock yourself out." He smiled eerily.

Catherine removed a swab from her pocket. "Oh, I prefer saliva." She told him.

Lazarus looked disappointed. "Aw…"

"Open up." Catherine told him. Lazarus opened his mouth wide, baring a pair of fangs just like the set they found on Angela's teeth. "Right." Catherine said with a weirded out expression as she swabbed his mouth.

**xxx**

Warrick and Phoebe took Lazarus's swab back to the lab and handed it over to Greg. They both grabbed a quick coffee before returned to the lab to get the results.

"Lazarus may have been sucking on Angela's shoulders, but he did not bite  
her jugular." Greg told Phoebe and Warrick, handing them his findings. "His DNA's inconsistent with the saliva swabbed from the puncture wounds around her neck."

"Damn." Warrick said taking the results.

"What about that pendant?" Phoebe asked hopefully.

"You know, nothing says "I love you" like an ounce of fresh blood." Greg told her with a grin. "It is Angela's blood, and it's mixed with a polyester base. Polyester base is an inert fluid pre-packaged in test tubes used for HIV testing. It helps prepare  
the blood for centrifugation by forming a barrier between the blood cells and  
the serum."

"Angela's parents only insisted upon only one thing." Phoebe looked to Warrick. "That she be tested for HIV."

**xxx**


	29. Donor

**DONOR**

Catherine, Warrick and Phoebe arrived at the local Medical Centre where Angela Somerville had her blood tests taken. On their way inside, Phoebe expressed to Catherine her massive distaste for needles.

"You're a CSI." Catherine told her blatantly with a smile to let Phoebe know she wasn't putting her down.

"I know, I know. I see decapitated bodies every day." Phoebe agreed. "But it's just the act of sticking a needle into that part of the arm." Phoebe shuddered quite noticeably. "Grossest thing ever."

Catherine laughed and Warrick shook his head as they walked into the halls of the medical centre. There was no one at the front desk and no one in the waiting room. Seemed to be a very slow day. Catherine heard voices coming from one of the exams rooms down the hall so she led Phoebe towards them.

Through the doorway of the exam room, Phoebe spied a young man about her own age in a lab coat, drawing blood from an elderly woman.

Warrick turned to Phoebe; her face had turned shock white. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, still looking extremely pale. "I'm gonna sit down." She told Warrick, turning on her heel. Then she slumped into the side of the door, banging her head on the Perspex window.

Warrick grabbed her around her middle so she wouldn't hit the floor. "Whoa, easy now." He nodded to Catherine, telling her to go in and talk with the blood technician, and sat Phoebe on one of the plastic chairs against the wall. He sat beside her. "You really don't like needles." He realized.

Phoebe laughed, colour returning to her face. "Just the 'being in the skin' part." She told him. "On their own; I find needles quite pleasant."

The elderly woman who had been having her blood drawn exited the exam room. With Warrick's, unwanted but relentless help, Phoebe headed into the exam room.

"We're from the crime lab." Catherine was saying as Warrick and Phoebe entered. "We're here about a Miss Angela Sommerville."

"Last month, your clinic tested her blood." Warrick added.

The man, whose nametag read Bobby Jones, shook his head. "Actually, we don't do the testing. Common mistake. I'm contracted by Adminalab to withdraw blood, and the lab processes." He paused. "And the whole thing is confidential, so…"

"Oh, we've already seen her results. She's dead, so, the confidentiality privilege no longer applies." Catherine said with a hint of a smirk. "We need to know which tech  
withdrew her blood."

"I'm the only tech here." Bobby said plainly.

Phoebe, feeling 100 better, pressed on. "She had a pendant around her neck with blood in it."

Bobby shrugged in a disinterested way. "What does that have to do with me?" he asked.

"Her blood was mixed with a polyester base." This time Phoebe was the one who almost smirked. "I think you know what that means."

A glint of...something...ran through Bobby's eyes. "I...know who you're talking about." He paused, staring off into space for a few moments. "I'd taken more than enough for testing purposes, so, I figured it's her blood. Why not just give it to her?

"My bet is that it's against your lab's policy." Said Catherine as Warrick began to wander around the room.

"Great." Bobby sighed. "You gonna report me?" He was distracted as Warrick opened the refrigerator against the back wall. "Uh, you can't go in there." He said quickly.

"We have a warrant." Warrick told him, nodding at Phoebe who whipped the warrant out of her pocket and smiled at Bobby before handing it over.

Bobby took the warrant but didn't look over it. "Th-that's my personal fridge." He said weakly as Warrick pulled out a beaker half full of blood from the fridge."

"Now, what's this blood doing here?" Warrick asked him, showing the blood to Catherine and Phoebe.

"Mr. Jones, I'm going to need a sample of your blood." Catherine told him.

"I bet you don't have a warrant for that." Bobby said with an annoyingly pompous grin.

Warrick eyed the container. "Cath, I think we have all we need right here."

**xxx**

_Back to the lab again, _Phoebe thought as she entered the laboratory with the beaker of blood in her latex-gloved hands. She set to work on a lip print that was on the outer rim of the jar, but she already knew what the results would be. But knowing and proving were two different things when it came to evidence.

Phoebe's eyes wandered out of the transparent walls of the lab as she awaited her analysis results. Her traveling gaze fell upon Nick and Sara in the lab beside her, most likely still working on their weirder-by-the-second Chinese Antiques case. Nick was in the middle of explaining something to Sara, quite vehemently it would seem. He always tensed when he wasn't getting his own way. Or when he couldn't get people to see things his way. Phoebe realized she hadn't noticed that before. Well, she had. But she hadn't really cared. _So why do I care now?_ She wondered. _I don't_. She told herself firmly.

"Dammit, Warrick." She mumbled under her breath. He'd put these ideas in her had. At least that's what Phoebe told herself. But even as she cursed Warrick in her mind, her eyes wandered back up towards Nick. He was now leaning against the desk Sara was sitting at. His arms were crossed tightly which made his muscly arms even more pronounced. And for some reason this was an extremely important thing for Phoebe to note. Shaking her head abruptly, Phoebe cursed herself for feeling like a hormonal teenage girl, and went back to work. It was at that point she realized her blood results had been ready for quite some time.

**xxx**

Catherine let Phoebe sit in on the interview with Bobby Jones and Phoebe was thrilled at the distraction because, on her way out of the lab after she got her blood results, Nick had asked Phoebe if she wanted to grab breakfast with him and Sara. Too afraid to agree, fearing that she'd be obviously self-conscious, Phoebe had declined citing that Catherine wanted her in the interview with their suspect. In reality, Catherine hadn't asked her to sit in until after that chat with Nick.

In the interview room, Catherine showed Bobby photos that Warrick had taken of the container of blood. The last one she placed in front of him was a close up of the lip print.

"The blood in your personal fridge belonged to Angela Somerville." Catherine told Bobby. "We found a lop print on the rim of this container we got from your stash."

"I pulled DNA from saliva on the rim." Phoebe chimed in. "Ran in through the database. Did you know the medical centre you work for has your DNA on record?"

"It's not a crime to drink someone's blood." Bobby said quietly to his hands.

"How did her blood end up in your _personal_ fridge?" Phoebe asked.

"When Angela came in for her HIV test, she asked me to withdraw an extra unit." Bobby explained. "She paid me twenty bucks to store it, and never came back to pick it up."

"And what, you got thirsty?" Catherine deadpanned, but Phoebe had to force herself not to crack a smile. "Angela's test date was 32 days ago, and our lab determined that the blood from your fridge was less than a week old." She continued. "Would you explain that?"

Bobby sighed. "Most girls turn away when I stick the needle in...but she was into it." Bobby closed his eyes, absorbed in the memory. I started watching over her. She was dating this wannabe total Hollywood freak show."

"Oh, so you're the real thing?" Phoebe asked skeptically.

Bobby smiled. Both Catherine and Phoebe noticed sharp fangs on his incisors. "These don't come out." He said proudly.

"Mr. Jones, give me a file and I could sharpen my teeth into fangs, too." Catherine said with a frustrated undertone.

Bobby shook his head. "Nah, I was born with these."

"Mm-hmm." Catherine muttered. "The night that Angela was murdered, you were _watching over her_."

"The poser just took off." Bobby said, referencing Lazarus Kane. "She...invited me in." He smiled, his eyes still closed. "She was happy to see me." He continued in a whisper. "We kissed." Bobby opened his eyes and looked directly at Phoebe. "She...offered herself to me."

"You mean she offered her blood to you." Phoebe corrected him.

"Yeah." Bobby smiled at the memory.

"She may have offered you her blood, but you took her life." Catherine spoke up in an attempt to bring Bobby back down to earth. "You murdered her."

Bobby smiled in a psychotic way. "You can't prove that."

"DNA I pulled of the lip print matches the saliva we found on the puncture wounds on Angela's neck." Phoebe told him.

Bobby shook his head, as though he thought Phoebe and Catherine had no idea what they were talking about. "I released Angela from her body." He explained airily. "She's inside of me now. A part of me." He grinned, showing them his fangs. "And she's very much alive."

**xxx**

Phoebe's plan had been to pack up her stuff and head home before starting work again that evening, but while waiting for Warrick to give her a lift home in the break room, Phoebe fell straight to sleep on the couch. She had a dream she had never had before, and one that blamed completely on Warrick for putting the idea in her head. She had fallen asleep with her iPod playing in her ears and in her dream; she and Nick were dancing oh-so-closely to a Michael Buble tune Phoebe adored. One main feature of the dream was that while she wore a sheer, black dress; Nick was shirtless and wearing only jeans.

Waking with a start by someone shaking her into coherence, Phoebe felt annoyed that this time the day before she'd only thought of Nick as...well, Nick. Not as any sort of prospect of the future. A gorgeously shirtless prospect at that.

So that was why it was that much more strange for Phoebe when she realized that it was Nick who had shaken her awake and was now kneeling beside the couch.

"Hey." He said in a low voice.

"Hi." Phoebe said in a tired voice, quickly wiping her mouth and praying she hadn't drooled. She was thankful when she realized she hadn't. "What time is it?"

"Lunch time." Nick told her. "Warrick didn't want to wake you. I said I'd take you home."

"Oh, thanks. You don't have to do that." Phoebe pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"No; it's no problem at all." Nick smiled at her.

Phoebe smiled back, very aware that it probably came off shaky. A point that Nick noticed as well.

"You alright?" He asked, concern suddenly evident in his eyes. "Being Buffy take it out of you a little?"

"Ha-ha." Phoebe laughed dryly. "Even she got a break now and again."

Nick smiled and then noticed a bruise just above Phoebe's right temple. "Hey, what happened?" He instinctively reached out and placed his hand on the side of her face.

Phoebe was so taken aback at his touch she didn't realize what he'd said. Then she remembered her little fainting spell at the medical centre earlier. "Oh, I hit my head on a door." She told him. "And it's just as dumb as it sounds."

"You sure?" Nick asked, his hand still on her face and concern still in his eyes.

Phoebe smiled, more steadily this time, and nodded. "Positive."

"Okay then." Nick took his hand off Phoebe's face and she realized at that point how much she wished he hadn't. "It's lunch time. And since you blew me off for breakfast then we'll just have to go now." He got to his feet and reached both his hands down to Phoebe. "What do you say?"

Phoebe looked up at him and then took both his hands. "Alright." She agreed as Nick heaved her to her feet.

The pair of them headed out of the building and over to Nick's car. He took her out to lunch, they caught a movie and then he dropped her home with a quick wave as a farewell. As Phoebe watched him drive off she came to the conclusion that, as much as she had been planning to kill Warrick for what he'd made her think about, those thoughts about Nick had quite possibly had been in her head since the day they met.


	30. Power Through

_**I had so much fun re-writing Suckers and putting Phoebe in it that I decided to do it again with this episode, Overload, from season two. This one fits more in line with Phoebe's storyline with the show and, for all those Nick/Phoebe fans I created :P, has great scenes for them to share. Enjoy!**_

**POWER THROUGH**

It had been two weeks since Phoebe had solved her vampire case. Which also meant is was two weeks since she'd realized she had feelings for Nick. Feelings that she blamed Warrick for surfacing and blamed herself for having. Because she and Nick were friends, great friends, and she didn't want to ruin that by blurting out how she felt. Especially knowing full well that Nick probably didn't feel the same way. It was her second year in Vegas and she knew Nick never got to a third date with a woman. It wasn't because he was a sleazy guy; it was just that he got bored with the same type of girl over and over again. At least, that's what Phoebe told him was the problem. He didn't seem all that happy to hear it.

It was early afternoon when Phoebe arrived at the crime scene she'd been chosen to work on. It would also be the first case Phoebe had worked in with Nick since she'd realized she was feeling...feelings for him. Grabbing her kit from the back seat of her car, Phoebe dismissed her thoughts about Nick as a simple, juvenile crush that would eventually go away and headed towards Nick who she'd followed to the scene. Sergeant O'Riley met them at their cars.

"Hey, O'Riley." Nick greeted him. "We got the 419."

O'Riley nodded at them both. "Dylan Buckley. Fourteen years old."

Nick and Phoebe entered the house. Phoebe noted it was quite a nice home with modern furniture and classy artwork on the walls. It reminded Phoebe of the psychiatrist's office she visited when her father had died. Except that this house had the dead body of a young man in the middle of the living room floor.

"Paramedics pronounced." Sergeant O'Riley told Nick and Phoebe. "Coroner's on his way."

"Was he home alone?" Nick asked, setting his kit down.

"Not alone and not his home." The Sergeant corrected him. From behind him, talking to another police man, a middle aged woman dressed in white pants and a white cotton cardigan came over to them. "Phoebe Parker, Nick Stokes, crime lab." Sergeant O'Riley told the woman. "This is Dr. Leigh Sapien. This is her residence."

"Good." Phoebe said to her. "Then you can fill us in."

Dr. Sapien nodded remorsefully. "We were in the middle of a session."

Phoebe realized her assumption of the house décor was right on the money. "You're a Therapist."

"Psychiatrist." Dr. Sapien corrected her.

"And why were you seeing Dylan?" Phoebe asked.

The Doctor shook her head. "Doctor-Patient privilege." She told them.

"Privilege doesn't extend post mortem." Nick told her.

"We can also get a warrant for your records." Phoebe added. No matter what she felt, Phoebe was always able to put her job first. Even when she was working with Nick...abnormally gorgeous Nick.

"No need." Dr. Sapien said in an important voice. "Dylan suffered from Reactive Attachment Disorder. He was with his mother and I've been treating him for sixteen months."

"Ten o'clock at night." Phoebe brought up the odd time for a session. "You use your home?"

The Doctor smiled. "I see my patients whenever they need me. On weekends, at  
night. At the office or here-"

"Why don't you just tell us what happened." Nick interrupted, seeing Phoebe glance over at him.

"Dylan had an argument with his mother." Dr. Sapien explained. "He needed to unload. He was complaining about his curfew blaming his mother for problems at school. Suddenly, he began to convulse. I tried to stabilize his head. I thought it was grand mal seizure. Dylan was an epileptic. He hit his head. And when the convulsions stopped he was dead."

"Did you try to revive him?" Phoebe asked.

"Of course, standard CPR." The doctor said, almost as though Phoebe had offended her. "I cleared his airway, worked his chest."

Nick spotted something obvious on the left shoulder of Dr. Sapien's white cotton cardigan. "I take it this wasn't his first convulsion."

Dr. Sapien nodded. "He was diagnosed with epilepsy at age 3." Nick approached the doctor in a manner that apparently startled her. "What are you doing?"

Phoebe was about to ask the same question when Nick turned to her. "Pheebs, we need to get a tape-lift here, please?" She nodded and removed a tape-lift sticker from her kit. While she lifted what looked like light brown lint fibers off the shoulder of the doctor's shirt, Nick began looking around the rest of the room.

"Look, I dialed 9-1-1. I'm not hiding anything." The doctor said frustratedly to Phoebe.

Phoebe put the lint into evidence. "I can see that." She told the doctor.

**xxx**

Once the coroner arrived and cleared the scene, Nick took Phoebe's evidence back to the lab along with Dylan Buckley's clothes. Nick was already feeling uneasy about this case, and he didn't feel that way very often. He should have waited for Phoebe, but he wanted to get started right away so he began searching Dylan's clothing. He had the boys' shirt, his pants and his boxer shorts. He examined the shirt and the pants and found nothing. And then he saw it. On Dylan's boxer shorts was a patch of tan coloured fiber.

**xxx**

With this new evidence in hand, Nick headed down to see Doc Robbins hoping that Phoebe would be there so he could tell her what he'd found. And apologize for going ahead without her. Phoebe was like Sara in that respect, she didn't like being left out on a shared case.

But Phoebe wasn't the one coming out of the morgue when Nick arrived. It was Mrs. Buckley, Dylan's mother. And for some reason, Nick felt compelled to talk to her. "Mrs. Buckley? I'm Nick Stokes. I'm from the crime lab. I've been working your son's case."

Mrs. Buckley looked confused. "Crime lab?"

"It's protocol." Nick told her.

"We were just having pizza together." Mrs. Buckley began to explain. "He seemed fine. And I dropped him off at Dr. Sapien's and..." She paused. "My husband passed away three years ago and now my..." she was too distraught to continue. "My baby's gone."

"I understand." Nick quietly replied.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go make arrangements." Mrs. Buckley told Nick as tears appeared in her tired looking eyes. 

"Sure." Nick told her as she walked past him. "I'm sorry for your loss." He added without turning around.

"Thank you." Mrs. Buckley told him.

Then she headed out of the morgue leaving Nick who couldn't help but feel sorrow for that poor woman and all she'd lost. And the fact that something else had happened to her son; he hadn't died from a simple seizure. Or at least, the events leading up to it had been edited by the doctor. Nick composed himself and headed into the morgue were Doc Robbins was standing over Dylan's body.

"My youngest just turned 14." Doc Robbins said as Nick came in. "Tough age." 

"Cause of death?" Nick asked.

"Cranial-cerebral injuries." The Doc showed Nick bruises on Dylan's head. "Comminuted fractures of the occipital bone."

"Injuries consistent with a grand mal seizure?" Nick asked.

"First blush? Yes." The Doc told him. "Waiting on toxicology. In the meantime, check out his torso."

Nick eyed the boy's chest. There were purple and pink welts all over him. "He's covered in bruises." Nick noted. "Possibly from being thrashed during the seizure?" 

Robbins nodded. "Possibly."

"I found tan fibers on his boxers." Nick informed the Doc.

"You, too, huh? His body's covered in them." The Doc said.

"Fibers on his body and his underwear but not on his shirt and pants, why?" Nick asked aloud.

"Well, maybe it was as simple as he wasn't wearing his shirt and pants." The Doc offered.

Nick considered this. "Okay, then at some point he was with his Shrink in his underwear." This thought disturbed Nick immensely.

"Exactly what kind of therapy was this?" Robbins eyed the boy's bruises with concerned and then looked up at Nick. The Doc couldn't help but notice how anxious Nick looked.

**xxx**

Nick entered the lab looking for Greg and found Phoebe awaiting the results on the lint fibers that she'd pulled off Dr. Sapien's cardigan. But Greg being Greg, he was giving her her answer in the form of a puzzle.

"Cheese. Milk. Sweaters." He told Phoebe and Nick. "What do these things have in common?" 

Phoebe thought. "Goat cheese, goat milk…"

"Goat...sweaters?" Nick sounded skeptical.

Phoebe understood. "Angora." She realized.

"Ding, ding, ding!" Greg yelped happily. "The fibers from the lady shrink and the fibers fro the boy are both angora." He handed Phoebe the results.

"Angora is processed goat hair?" Nick asked. Greg nodded in reply.

"Sheered, washed, spun and dyed. Angora's 100 goat." Phoebe informed them both. She turned to Nick. "You didn't know that, Nicky?" She smiled, handed Nick the results and left the lab.

"Must be a chick thing." A smiling Nick told Greg who laughed.


	31. Flying Solo

**FLYING SOLO**

While making a crappy coffee in the lab, Phoebe spotted her favourite hot dog vendor on the street corner outside the window. She rushed down to great him before he left. Larry was his name, and he wandered all over Clark County selling his hot dogs. He came by CSI headquarters about once a fortnight and everyone loved him. He had become Nick, Phoebe, Greg, Sara and Warrick's unofficially team food. Which is why Phoebe wasn't surprised to find Sara on her way back from Larry with a hot dog on her hand. The two girls stopped and spoke for a few moments before Phoebe headed over to Larry herself. They chatted about the mundane things they always talked about and then Nick appeared, seemingly having the same idea as everyone else. He greeted Larry happily, got his hotdog and went over to Phoebe.

"Hey Pheebs?" He asked.

"Yeah?" Phoebe replied.

"You ever been to therapy?" He asked.

"Who hasn't?" Phoebe scoffed. "My school made me after my dad died. Didn't really learn anything."

"And you were okay sharing your problems with a complete stranger?" Nick asked curiously.

"Rather I tell them to you?" She smiled at Nick. He laughed in response.

Just then Sergeant O'Riley pulled his car up in front of Larry and came over to Nick and Phoebe, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "Somebody order a warrant?" he called out.

"Yeah." Nick replied happily.

The Sergeant approached Larry first. "Mustard and relish. Hold the onions." He ordered and then headed over to the CSI's. He handed the warrant to Phoebe. 

"I hope it's a general." Nick gestured to the warrant.

The Sergeant shook his head. "Epilepsy. Eyewitness physician dials 9-1-1. Coroner's not making any noise. You're lucky to get a limited."

"What do you mean, we're lucky?" Nick told him, annoyance clear in his voice. "We've got fibers on a 14-year-old kid and the shrink's clothing."

"Which would have got you nothing." Sergeant O'Riley told him. "But I did a background check on the good doctor. While back, she had her license suspended. Sex with a patient. Teen's parents filed a complaint with the A.P.A."

Nick shook his head. "Sex with a minor. Suspension's a joke. Should have lost her license; minimum.

Phoebe could see Nick's disturbance at this new information. "Yeah, well, this time, maybe she will." She told him.

**xxx**

It was back to Dr. Sapien's residence for Nick and Phoebe. As soon as they'd finished their hotdogs and bid farewell to Larry, they were off. After showing the doctor their warrant, she let them inside. Phoebe set about checking the upstairs of the house while Nick stayed downstairs checking the area where Dylan had died. Dr. Sapien kept Nick in her sight, apparently annoyed with their presence. She was reading the conditions of the warrant.

"Angora fibers? What does that have to do with anything?" She asked Nick who was looking at something on the floor. He didn't answer her. "Excuse me. I don't appreciate being treated like a suspect."

"Then maybe you should wait outside." Nick told her without looking up. 

"Do you consider me a suspect?" She asked Nick. "Because that's how I'm feeling." Nick didn't respond. "Fine. Don't answer me. It's your choice."

Still not looking up, but getting angrier by the second, Nick spoke. "That's the funny thing about choices. Once you make them you have to live with them." He shook his head as he looked up at Dr. Sapien. "Dylan Buckley was just a boy. He trusted you and you abused that trust."

Phoebe appeared at that moment holding a folded, tan-coloured blanket wrapped in plastic. "Linen closet. Top shelf." She told Nick.

Nick looked at Dr. Sapien. "Was that blanket here ... on the floor? Were you and Dylan under it?"

The Doctor looked to offended to speak.

"He was a 14-year-old kid." Nick glared at her. "What's the matter with you?" 

"He resisted; you persisted." Phoebe tried not to be concerned for Nick. But he never acted like this with anyone, not even potential suspects. He just told them he was doing his job and then moved on. "Then what?"

"Look, I don't know the basis of your allegations but I have never crossed the line with a patient." Dr. Sapien said confidently.

"That's not what your rap sheet says." Nick reminded her flatly.

Dr. Sapien looked confused. "Rap sheet?"

"Sex with an underage patient." Phoebe told her.

This apparently jogged her memory. Her eyes fell downcast. "I was a resident. He was 17. We were in...look, no criminal charges were filed. It should have been expunged from my record."

"It doesn't make you any less guilty." Phoebe told her.

This time, the Doctor looked at Phoebe frustratedly. "Lady, I'm not a saint but I am not a killer or a child molester." She sighed. "Dylan Buckley was an epileptic. He had a seizure. He hit his head. That's the truth. You don't like it, you can leave."

"We got what we came here for." He stood up and stalked out of the home with his jaw clenched.

Phoebe followed him. Once they were outside, she spoke. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm on a case." Nick said in a way that sounded as though he thought that explained his behaviour.

Phoebe was put off. "_We're_ on a case." Phoebe corrected him.

"Right." Nick said quietly without turning around. He headed to his car.

Phoebe slowed her pace as she followed, knowing that something was seriously wrong with Nick. Something that he wouldn't tell her; and he told her everything.

**xxx**

Nick went back to the lab with the blanket Phoebe found and set about scanning it for evidence. The most accurate way to do that was to section the blanket off into quadrants and then swab every square. It was a long, tedious process, but Nick was determined to do it right. It took him about an hour and seventy-five swabs, but Nick was satisfied.

Phoebe was looking over the lab results on Dylan's blood and was heading down the hall to find Nick. She spotted him in the lab talking with David Phillips who was handing him some test results. Phoebe wondered what on earth they were for since he hadn't told her about any tests. Entering the lab, Phoebe caught the end of the conversation.

"Thanks David." Nick told the coroner.

"No sweat." David said, turning to leave. He passed Phoebe on the way out. He obviously saw the annoyed look on her face. "Hey, he asked for it." David said innocently before heading off down the hall.

Phoebe walked into the lab and saw the angora blanket she'd found spread all over the table with toothpicks sectioning it off into squares. "How many swabs does it take to process a blanket?" She asked, more concerned about Nick then the fact that he'd processed her evidence.

Nick didn't look at her. "I'm thorough." he replied in a dismissive tone.

She opened the file in her hand and showed it to Nick. "The lab tested Dylan Buckley's blood for Creatine Kinase which would be elevated post-seizure-"

"But Dylan Buckley's levels were normal." He finished for her. Phoebe looked confused. Or was it annoyed? "I just got my own copy of the report." He gestured to the papers David had just given him. "Dr. Sapien lied." He turned and walked out of the lab.

Phoebe was right behind him. "You're racing me, Nick. We're driving the same car." She told him. He didn't respond; just kept walking. Phoebe felt anger rise in her throat. "Nick!" She called. He still didn't reply. She stormed down the hall after him. "I'll get you removed from the case." She said as she reached him. She wasn't sure if she could actually do that, but her words seemed to have the desired effect. Nick stopped and turned around. "You're confronting suspects before the evidence is processed. You're flying solo, cutting me out." She could see something in Nick's eyes she'd never seen before. A sort of sadness that worried her. "What's going on?"

Nick took a deep breath. He was about to tell Phoebe his darkest secret, one that his parents didn't even know. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "There are some people you're supposed to be able to trust, you know?"

Phoebe nodded. Now she was scared. Nick had tears in his eyes; she'd never seen him cry before.

"I was nine. And she was a last-minute baby-sitter." Nick said quietly.

Phoebe was stunned. She knew her mouth was open but she couldn't move. Tears were forming in her own eyes as she watched Nick.

"All I can remember doing afterwards is sitting in my room in the dark, staring at the door waiting for my mom to get home." He paused, trying to stop himself from crying. "And I've never told anyone before." He added quietly.

Phoebe was so shocked she didn't know what to say. Nick looked so hurt she just wanted to hug him, but she knew he didn't want her to. There was a sad silence between them. Phoebe didn't know what she was feeling. One part of her was touched that Nick told her while, on the other side, her heart was breaking for him. She didn't know what to do so she just grasped his shoulder and said: "I'm sorry." The words shook as they came out of her mouth.

Nick shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of what he'd said. "It's what makes a person, I guess." He smiled weakly. Then he looked seriously at Phoebe. "I'm sorry, Pheebs." He turned and walked away before Phoebe could stop him.

She started to call him back but her throat closed over and she couldn't speak. She covered her mouth with her hand and realized that tears had streaked her face. 


	32. Close

**CLOSE**

Phoebe didn't see Nick again until Greg paged them both to come to the lab. Apparently he wasn't happy about having to test the thirty swabs Nick had used on the angora blanket. Phoebe was set to talk with Nick, ask him if everything was alright or if he needed anything, but by the time she arrived in the lab, Nick was already there talking with Greg.

"FYI. Thirty swabs in six hours?" Greg was saying as Phoebe came into the lab. "Not realistic, all right? Even for me."

"Come on, Greg, I thought you liked a challenge." Nick told him, jostling his shoulder. "What are we looking at here?" he nodded to the swabs laid out in front of Greg. 

"Lots and lots of epithelials." Greg told them both. "There were skin cells shed all over the blanket."

"Dylan Buckley's and Dr. Sapien's." Phoebe said, nodding matter-of-factly.

"You're two-thirds of the way there." Greg told her. Phoebe looked confused. "I also isolated a set of cells from another individual. Identity unknown. But when it's important to Nick here, I push further. Seven of the 13 markers matched your dead kid."

"Familial DNA." Phoebe looked confusedly at Nick.

"Father's dead, means we're looking at mom." Nick told her.

"Naked kid under a blanket at his shrink's late at night and his mother's there." Phoebe realized. "This case just entered a whole new realm of crazy."

**xxx**

Phoebe and Nick went back down to the morgue to see Doc Robbins. Nick didn't mention anything about their conversation earlier so Phoebe didn't bring it up. When they entered the morgue, Doc Robbins was finishing up his lunch. He looked at the two CSI's when they came in.

"Leftovers from my anniversary dinner." He explained.

"Congratulations." Phoebe told him with a smile.

"Thanks." The Doc replied.

"Doc? The kid in his underwear...tell us about the Y-incision." Nick asked, referring to the autopsy.

"Same tan fibers I found on the outside I found on the inside." The Doc told them. "Mouth, nasal passages, both lungs."

Phoebe understood. "He was wrapped in that blanket."

Nick nodded. "Mm-hmm. Head-to-toe." He added.

And that information alone was enough to bring in both Dr. Sapien and Mrs. Buckley.

**xxx**

Phoebe sat in the interview room with her evidence in front of her. Nick was on her right while Mrs. Jenny Buckley and Dr. Sapien sat on the other side of the table. Sergeant O'Riley was also in the room.

"Mrs. Buckley, we know that your son didn't have a seizure." Phoebe told her. "We also know that you were at Dr. Sapien's house with Dylan the night that he died." 

"He was in his underwear wrapped in a blanket fighting for every breath." Nick said to Jenny.

She had tears in her eyes. She'd been crying since her son's death. "I loved my son." She said aloud.

"That's what every parent says." Nick told her, with no emotion in his voice.

"This...this was therapy." Jenny started to explain. "I had tried everything else. Taken him to so many specialists. But I couldn't reach him. So we...we tried the..." She looked over at the doctor with an apologetic look on her face. "I have to tell them."

Dr Sapien sighed. "It's called Re-Birthing." She spoke up.

Nick looked as confused as Phoebe felt. "Re-Birthing?" he asked.

"It's a technique used to treat extreme behavioral disorders." Dr. Sapien explained. "Idea is to turn back the clock. Wipe the slate clean. Allow the child to re-bond with his mother."

"What is the blanket for?" Phoebe asked.

"It represents the birth canal." The doctor told her.

Phoebe tried to piece this together. "So you wrapped Dylan up...beat the hell out of him and hocus-pocus, he's supposed to love you again?"

Dr. Sapien could see how cynical Phoebe was reacting to the treatment. "Rebirthing may not be a recognized therapeutic procedure, but it's not illegal."

"Last time I checked, murder is." Sergeant O'Riley told her from the back of the room where he was leaning against the wall.

"I begged her to do it." Jenny told the Sergeant.

"All other methods of therapy had failed." Dr. Sapien continued. "Dylan was becoming more belligerent, withdrawn, even dangerous."

Jenny turned back to Phoebe. "I just wanted my son to love me." She said desperately. "That's all."

"Dylan was a willing participant." Dr. Sapien placed a comforting hand on Jenny's back. 

"He was 14." Sergeant O'Riley brought up.

"What happened?" Phoebe asked. "Exactly."

"I instructed Dylan to lie down on the floor." Dr. Sapien told her. "In a fetal position. As part of the process...I asked him if he wanted to be reborn to his mother. He said yes."

"So, then what happened?" Nick asked. Phoebe saw the anger under his eyes. "Things got out of hand? He changed his mind?"

"Somewhere in the middle of an angora birth canal?" Phoebe reminded them.

Mrs. Buckley covered her eyes and started to cry. "He asked us to stop." She said quietly. "I thought it was part of the process. She told me that that's what he was supposed to say. That babies don't want to come out. That that's why it's such an ordeal for the woman." She stopped, tears in her eyes. She couldn't continue talking.

"That's right." Dr. Sapien told her, nodding and rubbing Jenny's back.

"So you pushed on him like a mother in labor?" Phoebe asked quizzically.

Dr. Sapien nodded slowly. "When we opened the blanket, his eyes were closed. I thought he was pretending to be asleep."

Phoebe glanced at Nick. He had tears in his eyes. "So much for your..._therapy_." he said bitterly. Both Mrs. Buckley and Dr. Sapien looked at him. "Excuse me." He said shakily, getting to his feet and leaving the room.

Phoebe had an overwhelming urge to follow him. And she would have had she not been the only CSI left in the room.

"And that's why we tried to hide it." Jenny said, talking at her hands. "We knew you wouldn't understand."

Phoebe sighed deeply and nodded. Not in acceptance, but in agreement. She didn't understand.

**xxx**

Phoebe watched the police take the Dr. Sapien away. She wasn't going to be held for murder because Mrs. Buckley wasn't pressing charges. A notion that seemed odd to Phoebe, but it wasn't her place to judge. Or at least, not to voice her judgment. Instead, she went looking for Nick. After he'd left the interview, obviously distressed, she hadn't seen him. The lab had died down somewhat with most people out on cases. Phoebe wondered if perhaps Nick had gone home so she headed towards the locker room to see if his coat was still there. On the way, she glanced into the break room.

There he was, sunken shoulders, sitting on the couch and facing away from the window. Phoebe could tell by the way he was sitting that he was miserable. She walked slowly into the break room, unsure of what to say. She didn't think there was anything she _could_ say. So instead she just walked over to the couch, sat down beside Nick and put her arm around him. She leant her head into his shoulder and felt him lean his head on her own. The odd thing was there was nothing romantic about it. At that moment, Phoebe didn't really care about her crush. All she cared about was being there for Nick.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked him concernedly.

"Yeah." Nick replied in a shaky whisper.

"Wanna go get a drink?" She offered.

"No thanks." Nick replied. "And you don't drink."

"Right." She paused. "Want me to get naked and dance for you?" She said, trying to lighten the mood. She was happy when she heard Nick chuckle.

"A little." He answered in a laugh.

Phoebe leaned up off his chest and looked at him worriedly. "You sure you're gonna be alright?" she asked.

Nick nodded. "Positive." He smiled. "Thanks."

Phoebe leant over and kissed his cheek lightly. Then she got to her feet. "Okay then. See you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." Nick answered. She smiled and left the room. Then Nick got to his feet and headed home. Realizing that Phoebe had made him feel a whole lot better. That'd had never happened before. He looked out into the hall and watched her leave. Maybe there was more to their relationship then he'd first thought. Yeah, they were great friends...but when did friends make you feel as good as this?

-------------------------------------------------------------

Phoebe/Nick fans, the following chapters will bring angst and

love for these two. Stay tuned :D


	33. Solitary

**SOLITARY**

When Phoebe awoke from what felt like a week long sleep, she had no idea where she was. The room was dark and slightly breezy. Snuggling into her pillow she realized she was still wearing her dark blue denim jacket. _Why would I wear that to bed?_ She wondered, stretching out her legs. She also realized she was still in her work boots and jeans. And that she was sleeping on a couch. Blinking a few more times to gain a look at the room, she realized she was in the break room at CSI headquarters. The coffee pot on the bench hummed in the annoying way it always did, the overflowing trash that no one seemed to want to take out and there was a CSI sleeping on the couch; all common signs of the break room.

Phoebe suddenly remembered the events of the night before. Well, the three day long case she'd been working with Catherine. Murder on the strip; practically no evidence. They'd each had about four hours sleep total. Trying to remember what happened, Phoebe replayed what she did the night before. Filed her reports, said goodnight to Greg as he came in for his shift and waited in the break room for Catherine so she could give her a lift home.

Sitting up and rubbing her eyes Phoebe assumed that Catherine had seen her sleeping and caught another lift home. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Phoebe realized with horror that it was almost three in the afternoon. Her next shift started in fifteen minutes. She'd been asleep for almost ten hours straight. It'd take her fifteen minutes to get out of the building, let alone get home. But thankfully, or perhaps not, she wasn't sure, this wasn't the first time Phoebe had pulled an all-nighter at the lab. And thus she was prepared for the next time.

Slinking quietly into the hallway in hopes that no one would see she'd crashed in the lab, although she had the suspicion most people knew and had decided on a whole not to wake her, Phoebe headed straight to the locker room. Thankful that it was currently deserted, Phoebe grabbed her extra clothes and rushed to the shower. No time to wash her hair she simply cleaned of her nights sleep and jumped back out into the shower. It was at this point she realized; no towel. She had an old sweatshirt in the change of clothes which provided a suitable substitute and then through on her clothes. Her oldest jeans were so worn they provided no protection against the cold but they made her butt look good; her main reason for keeping them in her clothing rotation. Checking herself in the mirror, Phoebe grimaced as she caught site of her hair. It was flat on one side and wild on the other. Pulling it back into a tight, messy bun, she looked over herself again. Nodding her own approval, she packed up her old clothes, stuffed them in her locker and caught up with Sara who was walking past the locker room on her way to the break room to get that shift's assignments.

Sara was immersed in some science magazine that Phoebe often taunted her about but the two indulged each other in mindless banter as they joined Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown in the break room. It had been a couple of months since Phoebe had realized she had feelings for Nick; feelings that wouldn't go away. And it had been two weeks since they'd taken a case that had brought them even closer. But Phoebe was still stand offish. She knew any relationship was going to ruin their friendship; no matter how it turned out. It could only go two ways. They lived happily ever after, an option that Phoebe, with help from Oprah, believed to be a dream, or they have sex for a couple of months, realize they're no good together, break up and have to endure a strained, formal relationship for the rest of their careers until one of them got up the courage to leave. Phoebe's mother, Penny, did always tell her she had a tendency to over-think things.

Grissom came into the break room just behind Sara and Phoebe wearing a face that was all business. This told Phoebe one thing; busy night.

"Folks, we have a busy night ahead." Grissom greeted the team.

If he hadn't looked so serious, Phoebe would have told him of the coincidence that had just occurred. But she kept quiet.

"We're stretched to the max." Grissom continued. "First off; human remains found at a wedding chapel down town."

"What chapel?" Phoebe asked.

Grissom read from the file in front of him. "The Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel."

Phoebe laughed. "No, seriously."

Grissom didn't crack a smile. He handed her the paper in his hand. "Seriously. They specialize in gay and lesbian unions."

"Huh." Phoebe muttered, scanning the paper.

"Dismembered foot, apparently." Grissom told her. "Be thorough."

Nick leaned over Phoebe's shoulder and checked out the file. "Whose running point?" he asked.

"You're leaning on her." Grissom said.

Phoebe's head snapped up. "You're letting me take the lead on a case?" Grissom nodded. "But only CSI threes get to lead." Phoebe had been CSI two for almost three years now.

"That's right." Grissom told her. "Consider this your final exam. You pass; your promoted." He shrugged. "You fail; you fail."

Phoebe was a little stunned; mostly blind sided. She had just woken up twenty minutes ago. "This kicks ass." She muttered, mostly to herself. She'd never run point before.

"Way to go, Pheebs." Warrick said happily, raising his coffee cup to her.

"Sara will be at your disposal." Grissom continued.

"Never get tired of hearing that." Sara spoke up with a wry smile.

Grissom moved onto Warrick and Nick who were going out on a murder out in Henderson. Phoebe stared down at the papers in front of her, realizing that she was in charge of this one. Sara was already packing up her gear and getting ready to leave.

"Should I follow you?" Sara asked her as she shrugged on her coat.

Phoebe got to her feet, case file in hand. "Sure thing." Sara nodded and headed out of the room.

Grissom left with Warrick behind him. Nick lingered with Phoebe, who seemed unable to get started. "Running point." He said with a smile. "You scared?"

"Scared? No." Phoebe shook her head. "Freaked; yes." She smiled back and shook her head again in a discombobulated way. "It'll be fine." She waved a hand at him. He smiled and nodded before heading out of the room. Phoebe, quite happily, watched him leave. It took her a second to realize that Nick's butt had stopped moving and he'd turned back around to her.

"Pheebs?" Nick called.

"Hm?" She said looking up. Then she realized he'd seen her ogling him. "Oh!" her face flushed heat throughout her body.

"Are you okay?" He couldn't seem to contain the smile on his face.

"Yeah, fine." She said. "I-I, ah, thought I…forgot something." She covered badly. "But I didn't!" She tried to act cool; but that tended to be when Phoebe was at her least cool. "So, I gotta go." She walked out of the hall past him, not waiting for him to catch up, and mentally beat herself over the head for acting like a hormonal teen. Then beat herself up again when she remembered Nick had seen her.

**xxx**

The Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel was located on Las Vegas Boulevard. Phoebe was the first to arrive with Sara close behind her. A flustered looking man in a Hawaiian shirt with a lea around his neck was talking animatedly to Captain Jim Brass. Upon seeing the CSI's arrival, Brass left the man to talk to a police officer and came over to Phoebe.

"Grissom told me you're the lead." He said as he arrived in front of Phoebe and Sara. "Keep your head; you'll be fine." He smiled at her.

"What's going on here?" Phoebe asked, eager to push past the perception that she needed to be reassured she could do her job.

Brass led the two of them towards the chapel. He pointed to the man in the Hawaiian shirt. "That guy over there is Dylan Landowe; he owns this place. Says he was setting up for a beach party ceremony and found a foot buried in the sand."

The three of them entered the chapel and went into the main hall. There were a couple of officers milling around but it wasn't exactly a hot scene. There was a sectioned off area where a fake beach was half set up; complete with beach line sunset. Phoebe and Sara headed into the sectioned off area and starting scanning for evidence.

Phoebe noticed half a dozen full sandbags leaning against the wall with the remaining dozen empty bags piled beside them. "Sand was delivered in bags." Phoebe noted aloud.

Sara was kneeling down looking at the mangled foot. It was sliced off around the ankle and missing the two smallest toes. "The cut's jagged." Sara said. "Could have been a hacksaw...but there are no saw marks. It'll help when I can see the bone." She took out her camera and started snapping photos.

Phoebe had noticed a red smudge in the sand on the edge of the sectioned off area. A quick test with phenothaylene confirmed Phoebe's suspicions. "I got blood over here."

"Yeah, me too." Sara said, noticing the stain a couple of feet away from the body part.

"Makes sense if the foot was in one of these bags." Phoebe realized, turning to Sara.

Sara caught on. "This isn't the original crime scene."


	34. Sand Me Up

**SAND ME UP**

When Phoebe realized that the wedding chapel wasn't the original crime scene, she was eager to get the hell out of there and move on. But duty called so Phoebe went to find Brass and talk to the owner of the chapel.

Dylan Landowne was in his mid thirties and an out and proud gay man. He was also not thrilled with the fact that he had to shut down his business. "I'm supposed to start a ceremony in an hour." He said bitterly to Brass as Phoebe arrived.

"Well, that ain't happening." Brass told him. He gestured to Phoebe. "For now I want you to tell this woman everything about that sand in there."

Sighing, Dylan looked to Phoebe. "Our beach wedding is not the most popular; I don't keep the sand on hand and I don't reuse it. I only order it in when someone requests the beach theme."

"Where do you order it from?" Phoebe asked.

"Same place I always do. Shirley's Sand Temple. I know the owner; he gives me half-price." The man said proudly.

"We're gonna need to contact this…Shirley." Brass told him.

The man pulled out his wallet and gave them a worn business card. "That's an old card but the numbers still the same."

"Have you ever had any trouble?" Phoebe asked. Just a regulatory question, she doubted very highly that this man knew the foot had been in the sand bag.

"Every now and again you get your run of the mill gay bashers." Dylan said rolling his eyes. "But usually it's pretty good."

Knowing that Phoebe had all she needed, Brass took Dylan over to the other officers to once again reiterate his story. Phoebe went back into the main hall and found Sara inspecting one of the empty sand bags with a torch.

"The foot had to be in here." She said, showing the back to Pheobe. "It's soaked with blood."

Phoebe inspected the bag. Sure enough there was a crimson stain at the bottom of it. She sighed. "Well, I hope you brought your shovel because we've gotta haul all this back to the lab." Sara gave her a look which seemed to mirror exactly what Phoebe was feeling. _Aw, crap._

**xxx**

Two hours and an aching back later, Phoebe and Sara were at the lab. As was the norm with evidence like this, the pair of them was sifting through every single grain of sand for anymore signs of blood. Every now and again they got speckles of red, but no other body parts had come up as of yet. Brass was chasing down the sand business that delivered to the chapel and had promised to call them when he had results.

"Did Robbins say when he'd get to our foot?" Sara asked.

They'd been working silently for so long the sudden noise made Phoebe jump. "Well, he's got complete bodies down there so it could be awhile. He did say it was definitely from female, though."

"Well, it had three painted toenails." Sara reminded her. "It was a fair bet."

"Hoo, speaking of…" Phoebe mumbled happily, yanking a fragment out of the sand in front of her. "I got a toe nail. Snapped clean off." She showed it to Sara before collecting it in a bindle and setting it aside.

"I see your nail…" Sara said, plucking something out of the sand in front of her. "And raise you a finger." She proudly held up a bloody forefinger to Phoebe.

Phoebe sighed. "I never win at this game; I fold."

**xxx**

Nick and Warrick were in the break room discussing there own case. Although it had been a pretty gruesome murder, the killer's DNA was all over the body and the weapon that had been left behind. The police were out looking for the guy so until they were taking a breather.

They talked about what the always talked about. The case, then sport, then the case again, ladies, more sport and more then likely back to ladies. Although in that last department Warrick noticed Nick wasn't as vocal as he used to be. Warrick had been rambling about his girlfriend, Tina, for about ten minutes before he realized Nick wasn't contributing.

"Enough about me." Warrick finished up. "What about you? You seeing anyone?"

Nick shook his head and drank from his coffee mug. "I've been busy, man." He said weakly.

This was an excuse Warrick didn't accept but he didn't push the envelope; he could see Nick didn't want to. Instead, Warrick went to fill up his coffee cup again.

Nick was glad Warrick dropped the issue because it was too complicated to talk about anyway. Glancing out into the hallway, Nick saw Sara and Phoebe working in one of the labs. Sara said something that had apparently been hilarious because Phoebe was almost doubled over laughing. He loved how she laughed. Not just the sound of it, but the way her smile lit up her eyes was beautiful. Nick was blissfully unaware the he was staring at her until he felt something hit him in the side of the face. A sugar packet rested in his lap. Nick looked up to Warrick; the launcher of the sugar.

Nothing was said between them, but Warrick knew what was going on. "Busy, my ass." He muttered, shaking his head with a grin."


	35. A Friend Like Ben

**A FRIEND LIKE BEN**

When all the sand started looking like, well, sand and became more muddled then anything else, Sara and Phoebe headed for the break room to recharge. Nick and Warrick were in the midst of some kinda of American sports analogy Phoebe wasn't interested in so the girls just got their coffee and took a seat. Each pair was in their own little world for a few minutes but before long, as it always did, they collided.

"Pheebs, back me up here." Nick said as he and Warrick joined Sara and Phoebe on the couch. "In Australian football; pulling a player around the neck is illegal, right?"

"Well, not illegal. Frowned upon." Phoebe corrected him. "It's called a grapple tackle. When they grab 'em round the neck and slam them on the ground." Nick gave Warrick a know-it-all smile. "But don't go comparing you weak-ass excuse for football to ours." Phoebe said with a smile.

"Here they go." Sara rolled her eyes and got to her feet. She'd seen Nick and Phoebe have patriotic sports debates more times then she could count.

"You're saying Australian footballs' better?" Nick asked with a smile.

"You want me to go there?" Phoebe told him. "Cause I'll go there."

"Go there." Nick prodded her.

"Ok." Phoebe drew a breath. "Our guys are tough. Your guys are weak. You send them out there in helmets with all that stupid padding and all they do is dance over the line to get some points. Our guys go out there in short shorts and tight shirts. No helmets, no padding; it's a free for all. As long as nothing's gouged or pulled off; anything goes. And, to get any points, they have to place the ball on the ground over the line. Not just flutter across it." Phoebe leant back, pleased with herself.

"Ya done?" Nick raised his eyebrows.

"Sure am." Phoebe told him.

"I'm with her." Warrick said, getting to his feet. "I gotta start watching Australian football." He wandered over towards the coffee station to Sara.

After Nick and Phoebe had finished laughing, as they always ended up doing when they debated anything, Nick decided he could either take a chance or spend his life wondering what she'd say. He didn't want to wait to find out.

"Pheebs, can I ask you something?" Nick asked, more to his hands then to Phoebe. Since when was he nervous talking to girls? Let alone, Phoebe?

"Sure." She leant forwards.

"Ok." He looked up at her and smiled. "Ok." He said again.

"Ok?" Phoebe repeated. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Alright. You know how you think you know someone and then all of a sudden...it's different?"

Phoebe thought a moment. "No." she felt slightly clueless. "Do you need help on a case?"

"No, no." Nick laughed.

"Nick, what's with you? Why are you acting so weird?" Phoebe was intrigued now.

"Alright…" Nick took one final breath. "Pheebs, will you-"

"Phoebe?" called a voice from the doorway. As Phoebe turned, Nick cursed silently to himself.

Lily, the new secretary at the office, was leaning into the break room; headset hanging loosely around her neck. "There's someone here to see you."

Phoebe furrowed her brow. "Who?" she asked. Who would come to see her? If it were Doc Robbins or Brass, Lily would have said so. They hadn't ID'd the victim so it couldn't be a family member. And everyone in the office knew her mother and step-father so well that they more often then not were allowed to wander around and look for Phoebe. So who could it be? Warrick and Sara were listening in now; apparently Phoebe's visitor intrigued them, too.

"He said he knows you from back home?" Lily shrugged and pointed to someone down the hall. Then her headset started to ring. She tucked it over her ear and walked away to answer the call.

Phoebe's eyes traveled down the hall. She didn't see anyone she knew. She didn't know of that many people from Australia that knew she'd transferred from Miami to Vegas. So who would track her down? Then she saw someone with his back to her. He turned around and they locked eyes at the same time.

Phoebe couldn't believe he was here. Her heart lifted as soon as he smiled. "Ahh!" she screamed happily, jumping up to her feet. She ran out into the hall.

Nick was left sitting on the couch. He watched Phoebe rush out down the hallway of the lab to the front entrance towards this guy. A guy that Nick had never met. He was tall with shoulder length sandy blonde hair and he grinned widely when he saw Phoebe coming towards him. Then Nick had to watch as she flew into the arms of the man and he spun her around a couple times.

"Who is that?" Warrick asked. He and Sara had both watched, along with Nick, as Phoebe had greeted this stranger.

"Her brother?" Sara suggested.

"No, she's an only child." Nick said as he went over to join them.

"Yeah, and they don't look much like relations." Warrick muttered; eying the way Phoebe and the man were touching each other.

"Nick, go find out who he is." Sara said, shoving Nick into the hallway.

Thoroughly curious himself; Nick wandered down the hallway. For all he knew this was just Phoebe's cousin; not some guy who'd interrupted Nick asking Phoebe out.

"I just can't believe you're here." Phoebe was saying as Nick arrived. Not sure really what to do, Nick introduced himself. "Hi there. I'm Nick Stokes." He offered the man his hand and they shook hello.

"Hey, Ben Sawyer." He said with a nod. "So, you work here with Pheebs?"

For some reason, hearing this guy call her _Pheebs_ really irritated Nick. Only her friends called her Pheebs; and Nick _did not_ want this guy to be her friend. But he also _really _didn't want her to know that. "Yeah, I do." Nick crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't mean to seem stand-offish, but on the other hand, he didn't really care if he came off that way.

Phoebe sensed the awkwardness and, well, rudeness coming from Nick. "Ben's an old friend from Sydney." She said, slapping Ben lightly on the chest.

"Friends?" Ben said to Phoebe. "Come on; we're more than that." He draped an arm around Phoebe's shoulders. "We're engaged."

"We _were_ engaged." Phoebe quickly and angrily corrected him, whacking him again as she spoke. "Years ago."

"Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder." Ben said smoothly, smirking slightly at Nick.

Nick had the sneaking suspicion this attitude and display of affection was meant especially for him. And he wasn't going to play along. "Good to meet you." Nick said politely to Ben. Then he glanced at Phoebe before turning and walking down the hall.

Getting more annoyed with each step, Nick walked straight past Sara and Warrick, despite their requests wondering who the guy was, and towards the lab. Nick had always thought of Phoebe as his best female friend. How could he not have known about this guy? And why hadn't she told him she'd been engaged?

Phoebe watched Nick leave in confusion. He had just been abnormally rude and she wasn't sure why. It had seemed to her like he was jealous. But to be jealous of someone you had to want something they had.

"What's with that guy?" Ben asked, leaning back against the front desk.

Phoebe glanced at Sara and Warrick down the hall, who both gave her an _I dunno_ look in regards to Nick, they went back into the break room. Phoebe momentarily forgot about her attraction to Nick; mainly because there was nothing attractive about how he'd just acted to Ben. She was always nice to his friends. Always. Why was he acting like this?

"I don't know." Phoebe said, answering Ben's question.

She would've stalked right down the hall after Nick had her pager not gone off at that moment. She checked it. Doc Robbins did always have perfect timing.

xxx

_Just a note, if you need a visual of what Ben looks like, think of Josh Holloway, Sawyer from Lost:P Hence the name, Ben Sawyer :)_


	36. Feet First

**FEET FIRST**

After telling Ben that she'd catch up with him later, Phoebe rounded up Sara and the pair headed to the morgue to meet Doc Robbins. And, of course, Sara wanted to know about the man she'd saw Phoebe embrace so tightly in the hall. Phoebe was happy to tell her what she wanted to know; knowing that Sara wouldn't blab it around the office.

"You were engaged?" Sara couldn't get her head around that. Phoebe didn't seem old enough to have been engaged.

"Yeah." Phoebe nodded, trying to make it less of a big deal then it seemed to be for people. "We were young. I was 23 at the time." Phoebe recalled. She and Ben had been together for three years. They'd actually been almost forced together by Phoebe's mum Penny and her friend, Celia. Celia was Ben's mother. And at first, Ben and Phoebe had hated each other. But they grew closer and eventually fell madly in love; in the way only young kids can.

"What made him track you down after all this time?" Sara asked as they neared the morgue.

"He said he was in town." Phoebe shrugged. They hadn't had a lot of time to talk thanks to Nick's interruption. "Not sure why. I said I'd meet him for dinner."

"That's if we get out of here." Sara reminded her.

"Yeah." Phoebe agreed. This was her first lead on a case, she had to do well. Phoebe pushed the door to the morgue open so Sara could go through first.

Doc Robbins was humming a tune while he leant against his cane and made a note in the chart he was holding. He smiled as the two women entered. "Congrats on taking the lead, Phoebe." He told her, limping over to the slab their dismembered foot was lying on.

Phoebe smiled in reply. "Thanks." She nodded down at the foot. "How'd she go?"

"Well, it's her left foot and, from what I could tell from the bone, this woman was a teenager; nineteen at most." Doc Robbins said told them. "I called Brass and asked him to check if any women that age had been reported missing; he's gonna get back to me."

"Was her foot cut off or broken?" Sara inquired.

"Cut; and not very well." The Doc told them. He lifted up the foot to them and pointed out some grooves in the protruding ankle bone. "The cuts are jagged; probably from a hack saw or a knife with a serrated edge. In my opinion the killer either was inexperienced or in a hurry."

"I found a finger loose in another bag of sand." Sara told him. "Someone went to a hell of an effort to get rid of her body."

"Did you test her blood?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes." Doc Robbins reached for a file on his desk and handed to Phoebe. "TOX screen showed no sign of drugs or alcohol."

"Any idea how she died?" Sara asked, mostly out of hope. Unless it was some freak accident, no one usually died from a foot injury. And Robbins said as much.

"I'd need to see the rest of her." He told them. "But I'll tell you this, her foot seems perfectly healthy."

"Other then the fact it's missing its body." Pheobe deadpanned.

**xxx**

With the morgue results less then impressive, Phoebe put her hopes in Captain Brass on finding Shirley's Sand Temple. And he didn't disappoint. Not two minutes after Phoebe and Sara had left the lab, Brass was phoning Phoebe's cell. Apparently Joe Stanton, the owner of the sand shop, had been out fishing all day. He was now opening up his shop especially for CSI to search for the rest of the body.

Phoebe and Sara drove together to the sand store. When they arrived, they followed a waiting policeman inside the store. Phoebe could see Brass talking to a man she assumed to be Joe Stanton in the front office.

The policeman led Sara and Phoebe into a room that was cleverly labeled the "Sand Room"; the place where all the sand was bagged. Phoebe had followed Sara and ended up bumping into her back; unaware that Sara had stopped walking. And when Phoebe looked up she saw why. There were literally small mountains of sand ahead of them. The highest mounds were piled at least to Phoebe's height and then some.

"Well…" Phoebe sighed, eying the sand piles up and down. "Let's get started."

Drawing an invisible line between the piles of sand, Phoebe and Sara each took a side. They also both reeled in one policeman each to help out. Seeing as they'd found the victim's finger and foot separated from her body Phoebe knew they were looking for more parts. It was just a matter of finding them.

As Phoebe continued along with Officer Ryder nearby, she heard a loud, mechanical clunking sound. Obviously some kind of massive machine. Phoebe neared a door on the side of the room marked "Staff Only" and proceeded to enter it. The second the opened the door she almost went deaf. The clanging metal sound was so loud it caused pain in her head. The machine in question appeared to be crushing the sand into even finer granules and sifting it into large containers on wheels. Phoebe assumed these were the previous steps for all the sand in the other room. Turning to leave the room, Phoebe screamed as she bumped into Sara whom she had not heard approach. Her scream, along with Sara's, was completely muffled by the machine.

Phoebe and Sara left the room and shut the door. The sound immediately died down. "Sound proof walls." Sara noted. "They'd muffle a scream."

Over Phoebe's three years working with Sara at CSI, she'd discovered that, even though they were completely different people, when it came to cases, they tended to think the same. So it didn't surprise Phoebe at all when Sara voiced her theory that this was where the young woman had died.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Joe Stanton was storming over to them. He was a man in his forties with a stocky build and not much hair. He wore a pair of thick black glasses, tailored pants and a dark green button up shirt. He seemed extremely flustered as he stood before Phoebe. "That's an incredibly dangerous machine!"

"We figured." Phoebe said. "We need to see where the sand put in the machine."

"Well, I'd have to shut it down." Joe said irritably.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows.

"Fine." He turned in a huff and left. Moments later, the sound on the other side of the wall died down and Joe returned. He proceeded to lead the way into the room and up a narrow step ladder.

Phoebe told Sara to stay behind and keep inspecting the sand in the "Sand Room" with Brass while she and Officer Ryder followed Joe. "Why go to so much trouble to get sand?" Phoebe brought up as they walked along the metal bridge towards the top of the machine.

"Our sand is the best in Vegas because we care about what goes into it." Joe said matter-of-factly. "It's not just some run of the mill crap laced with powdered cement and sold for double its worth. Our sand is shipped in."

They arrived at the top of the machine. Phoebe noted there was a large open window behind the top of the machine. _Could throw a body through there…_, she mused.

Pointing to his machine, Joe continued. "Sand goes in here; it's washed, sterilized and then crushed to make sure no rocks or clumps get through. Then it's sorted into barrels and taken into the sand room. We shovel it into bags ourselves."

Joe stood back with one of the Officer Ryder as Phoebe took out her penlight and clicked it on. She leant forwards into the machine and scanned the sharp spokes at the front of the tubular metal piping ahead of her. It didn't take long for her to find something worth swabbing. Pulling a swab from her jacket and running it over the stain she'd discovered, Phoebe leant back out of the machine, retrieved her bottle phenothaylene and confirmed her thought.

"What is that?" Joe asked, eyeing the bright pink cotton swab in Phoebe's hand.

"Blood." Phoebe told him.

"Pheebs?" Brass called from below them.

Phoebe leant over the railing and down to the Captain. "Yeah?"

"Just got a call from the station." He told her. "A guy in Henderson was setting up his Zen garden; found a little something extra in his sand."

"So did I." Sara called from the doorway. She was holding up another foot. This one had retained all of its toes which wore the same shade of nail polish as the one on the slab in the morgue.

"Oh my God." Joe looked over the railing and saw the foot Sara was holding up. "Is that...was...was that in my sand?"

"Yup." Phoebe said nonchalantly. And the next thing she knew, Joe Stanton was flat on his back; completely unconscious.

"Faaannn-tastic." Phoebe muttered.


	37. On A Whole

**ON A WHOLE**

Joe Stanton recovered quickly from his fainting incident. Not a fan of blood; it would seem. Although Phoebe didn't know many people out of law enforcement and medicine that could handle seeing a gnawed foot. Neglecting medical treatment, Joe sat in his office while Phoebe collected the blood from the sand machine and Sara packaged the foot into evidence. Then Phoebe sent Sara, along with their findings, back to the lab while she, Brass and uniformed police officer went to this new location.

They arrived in Henderson a short time later at the home of Walter Michelson. Phoebe noted he was quite irate for someone who had been setting up a Zen garden. He led Brass and Phoebe to the back of his home where sure enough, an open bag of sand lay sprawled on the ground with a bloody hand sticking out of it. It seemed like Walter had been pouring out the sand and dropped it immediately when he saw the hand. The day shift coroner, happily telling Phoebe this was his last case for the day, cleared the scene to let Phoebe get to work.

Taking out her evidence brush, Phoebe carefully swept the sand away from the hand. She was lucky and unlucky at the same time. This was a female hand and it appeared to have all five fingers accounted for, accept the tips had been torn off; most likely from that sand machine. So there was no way to obtain fingerprints. Phoebe silently hoped that Sara could find something on the finger she'd found in the sand bag back at the lab.

As Phoebe continued to sweep away the sand, she spied something that could prove to be extremely important in identifying the victim. It was a silver ring, smeared in blood, but stuck firmly on the ring finger. Not wanting to destroy the hand, Phoebe took photo's of the ring in its place before sweeping the rest of the sand off. The hand was cut just below the wrist; it was a gruesome sight.

"Well, that's not pretty." Brass was leaning over Phoebe's shoulder to get a look at the hand.

"It's a severed hand; it's not meant to be pretty." Phoebe told him, carefully lifting the hand into an evidence bag and tagging it with her initials. "What did Walter have to say?"

"Nothing incriminating." Brass told her. "He showed me the receipts, he had the stuff ordered in yesterday. Which doesn't really help with time of death."

Phoebe stood up and gestured to the hand in the bag. "Well maybe this will."

**xxx**

Phoebe met up with Sara as she arrived at the lab. Together they took Doc Robbins the hand. He was mulling over both the feet as they came in. After telling the Doc that she'd need the ring from the hand ASAP, the girls left him to his devices and went back to the lab. Sara told Phoebe she was able to get a print from the finger she'd found and it was running a search in the lab. Phoebe told her she'd go and wait for the results while Sara went to see Greg in hopes he'd got something interesting of the blood Phoebe had swabbed from inside the sand crushing machine.

As she neared the lab, Phoebe saw someone at the trace computer. It was Nick. He had his back to her so he didn't see her coming. She'd been so preoccupied with the case she'd momentarily forgotten Nick's rudeness to Ben earlier in the day. She thought maybe he'd just been having a hard time on his case and was in a bad mood so she went into the lab trying to act as though all was well.

"Hey, is my fingerprint still searching?" She asked in her normal voice.

Nick didn't turn around. He lifted his head; he'd heard her, but he didn't look at her. "Not yet." He replied in a low voice.

And in that voice Phoebe knew he was mad at her. Or at least annoyed anyway. Plus, only when he was mad would he keep his back to her. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine." He replied hotly, his eyes on the computer.

Phoebe was fed up. He was acting like a child. "Alright, that's it." She said firmly, shoving a chair out of her way as she walked towards him. "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you mad at me or something?" he still didn't turn around. "Nick; look at me. Nick!"

He turned around in his chair and looked at her. She was mad. Or was it frustrated? Those two emotions seemed to meld in Phoebe. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" She almost spat the last word out. She wasn't going to play the innocent one when he was acting so juvenile.

"That you were engaged." He said flatly.

Phoebe opened and closed her mouth a couple of times; stunned by what he'd just said. He was mad because she hadn't disclosed the most humiliating time of her life to him? That's what this was all about. "What?" was all she managed to get out.

Nick was still irritated. "Some guy just shows up and says he's your fiancé; I'm just supposed to let that go? We're meant to be friends, Phoebe."

Now Phoebe knew how mad he was. He _never_ called her Phoebe unless he was being dead serious. _Never._ "I don't know what you want me to say." She muttered uselessly.

"I just want to know why you didn't think you could trust me with something like this." Nick told her. "Why you felt you had to hide it from me."

Phoebe sighed. "Because I'm not proud of it, okay?" she admitted snappishly. "I was young and stupid and I made a mistake. I left Sydney in the same week I was supposed to marry Ben." She felt hot tears in her eyes. It annoyed her that even after a decade she still couldn't talk about it. "I left him there to deal with the fallout on his own. I didn't see or talk to him for three years; not until he came here for my mothers wedding." She wiped the tears out of her eyes before they could fall.

Nick watched her earnestly, soaking in the information as she spoke. He felt like a complete bastard for making her cry; all because he couldn't handle Ben acting like he was Phoebe's boyfriend. It was so childish that if it had been happening to someone else, Nick would have given them a lecture on maturity.

"I didn't leave because I didn't love him." Phoebe admitted painfully. "It's just that...I didn't want to...be that person. Be married at twenty-three, have kids, not work...I wanted to finish university; I wanted to travel." Phoebe was talking to the floor now, but she could feel Nick's eyes on her. "Ben's originally from Chicago, he'd done his traveling. He was ready to settle. I wasn't." She looked up at Nick. He was giving her his full attention. "And I've never told anyone that before; not even Ben." 

Nick was speechless. He hadn't expected her to be so blunt; but he was glad she had been. He, again, felt like a bastard for basically forcing the truth out of her. He was sure that if he hadn't acted like a child to Ben and just asked Phoebe about him later; she would have answered all his questions. But no; he had to go and act like a jerk.

"I'm sorry, Pheebs." He told her honestly.

Phoebe smiled sadly. "It's okay." She held her arms out to him; gesturing for a hug. "Are we good?"

Nick smiled and got up off his chair. "Yeah, we're good." He said before wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly.

Phoebe was resting her head on his shoulder when she saw the computer light blinking; her results were in. "My prints!" she said, probably a tad overzealously. She broke away from Nick and together they checked the computer. The fingerprint had found a match. "Lucie Stafford, seventeen. Gotta love over-protective schools." She said. The print had found its owner in a school database. A lot of schools were printing students these days, in case of abduction or kidnapping. Phoebe hit print on the computer and the printer spat out her results.

Sara came to the door of the lab. "Pheebs, we got another call. While building a sandbox downtown apparently a human female head slipped out of the bag from Shirley's Sand Temple." She said happily.

"I just ID'd our vic." Phoebe proudly waved the paper in front of her.

"Nice." Sara said appreciatively. "Although technically, I got the print off the finger and started the search." She smirked.

"You suck." Phoebe told her, following it up with a smile.

Sara held up the fingerprint information. "I'll fax this to Brass and meet you downstairs." She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway.

Phoebe turned to Nick. "This case is in more pieces then the body." She rolled her eyes, about to leave.

_Just do it_, Nick told himself. "Pheebs, wait."

She turned around and smiled. "Yah?"

"Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?" He asked, smiling as he did so.

At first Phoebe thought he meant as an apology for their little tiff, why else invite her out on their night off, but she saw how nervous he looked. And if it was an apology dinner; he would've said so. He was asking her out on a date. She grinned, but couldn't hide her shock. "Dinner? Really?"

"Yeah...I've just been thinking a lot about you lately." He told her honestly. "And I think we should give it a shot."

Phoebe, still smiling inanely, was unaware that she hadn't spoken in a matter of minutes. She kind of jumped when she realized. "Huh...I, ah, I did not expect you to say that." She saw worry flash across his face. "Absolutely." She answered happily. "I'd love to."

Nick looked relieved and pleased at the same time. "Okay." He grinned.

"Okay." Phoebe grinned back and nodded. Then she remembered her case. "Oh, I have to go."

"I'll catch you later?" Nick asked as she backed out of the room.

"Definitely." Phoebe was smiling so much her cheeks hurt. She turned and walked down the hall feeling lighter then air. It was only when she got out of Nick's sight that she remembered she was meant to have dinner with Ben. The way this case was going that wasn't going to happen. Then she realized how little she cared about Ben. She had a date with Nick; and that was all that mattered.


	38. Heads Up

**HEADS UP**

Still in some kind of dream-like headspace, Phoebe let Sara drive her car as they made their way to yet another crime scene. Phoebe wasn't sure if Sara could pick up on her change of mood; she was trying to hide it. She wasn't sure she should blurt out she was going on a date with Nick. If it turned into a serious relationship, then maybe they would come out with it; but for a first date with the entire night shift team dying to know what was going on? Too much pressure.

Sara and Phoebe pulled up to a average looking home in an average looking street where an average looking mother was bouncing a baby on her hip while talking to a police officer. Phoebe led the way, her kit in hand, as she and Sara neared the front door.

The policeman, Officer Wallis, introduced Phoebe and Sara to Fiona Herington and her eleven-month-old son, Indy.

"I thought a sandpit would be a nice surprise for Indy's birthday next week." Fiona told Phoebe. "I ordered the sand from Shirley's; its one of the best. And to find a head inside…" she trailed off as her face turned a shade of green; she looked like she was about to be sick. "I just want it off my property."

"We'll be as quick as we can." Phoebe told her.

Officer Wallis led Phoebe and Sara out into the backyard. Next to a shiny new swing set was a half filled sandbox with a female head in the middle. It was face down in the sand with long, red hair; the same red hair that Phoebe had seen on the school photo of Lucie Stafford. Rolling the head over, Phoebe knew that this was definitely the same girl. Her eyes were closed and her face was scraped with numerous cuts; but it was definitely her.

Sara sighed as Phoebe told her they'd found the victim. "Well at least we know who she was now."

**xxx**

As soon as Phoebe and Sara got back to the lab after dropping the head off to Doc Robbins, Greg was waiting for them. The Doc had sent the young lab guru the silver ring that had been on Lucie's hand. He'd cleaned it off and found something interesting to show them.

"There's nothing all that special about the metal of the ring." Greg told them. "Just you're run of the mill sterling silver; all jewelry stores carry it."

"Then what's so important?" Sara asked him impatiently.

"This." he handed Phoebe the ring, which was now in an evidence bag. "It's inscribed."

Looking onto the inside of the band, Phoebe saw that Greg was right. "G-R-L-Z." Phoebe read.

"Anagram?" Sara suggested.

"Or just teenage slang." Phoebe offered. "G-I-R-L-S becomes G-R-L-Z. Although I always thought it was G-U-R-L-Z."

"Maybe it was cheaper to get it minus a letter." Sara said in a tone that made Phoebe think she was mocking her.

"Still, it's not that helpful." Phoebe surmised.

"Maybe her family knows something about it." Sara brought up, remembering that they had now ID'd there victim.

At that moment, Phoebe's phone beeped with a text message. She checked it. "Brass." She looked up at Phoebe. "He found the victim's family."

**xxx**

Brass drove James and Elle Stafford to the station to ID'd there daughters body. Well, her head at least. That was always a gruesome task. Upon seeing her daughters dismembered corpse, Elle vomited all over the morgue floor before running out of the room. James confirmed that this was indeed their daughter before leaving the room to comfort his wife.

Now, the distraught couple was huddled together on the couch in the waiting room. Phoebe, being the lead on the case, had to be the one to talk to them about their daughters' demise. She sat across from them in the waiting room with a solemn expression.

Elle Stafford was clearly a woman of class. She wore fashionable, dark jeans and a sleek, midnight blue, satin button up shirt. She had the face and complexion of a former beauty queen and the same flowing red hair as her daughter. Although right now her face was stricken with grief.

"I just don't understand." Elle said. "Lucie was perfect; wonderful." She dabbed a tissue to the corner of her eye. "And you're telling me someone just...just _tossed_ her into a machine?" Overcome, Elle covered her mouth as tears watered in her eyes.

James put his arm around his wife. He had obviously been called in from the office. He wore a black pin-stripe suit with a white collared shirt and red tie. His hair was dark brown as were his eyes; but his face appeared sadly dull and hollow. "I want the person who did this thrown in jail." He said to Phoebe. "I'm a lawyer; I'll see to it myself if I have to."

"Mr and Mrs Stafford; I have every intention of finding out what happened to your daughter." Phoebe told them seriously. "Can you tell me if Lucie had any enemies? Perhaps someone from school?"

"Lucie was a beautiful girl." Elle said, as thought Phoebe suggesting anything different was likened to that of swearing.

James pulled Elle closer to his chest. "Truth is, Ms. Parker, we all kind of led our own lives. Elle and I both work and Lucie was always busy with school activities. We may not have been as clued in as we could have been but Lucie knew she could come to us if she had a problem."

"She's so confident; she would have taken care of it herself." Elle said, smiling sadly. "We should've known." She sobbed loudly into her husband's shoulder.

"Why didn't you report Lucie missing?" Phoebe asked.

"Like I said; we lead separate lives." James told her. "I work late; I'm lucky if I'm home before midnight. And Elle's work at the magazine keeps her in her office for hours at a time. Lucie would usually go out with friends for dinner after cheerleading practice. She'd let herself in, get herself to bed...and she'd be gone by the time I got up. When I didn't see her in her bed this morning I just thought she'd stayed at a friends." Tears in his eyes, James looked away from Phoebe.

Phoebe let them have a moment before continuing. "Does this mean anything to you?" She pulled out the evidence bag containing the ring from Lucie's finger. She held it out to James and he took it; sadly touching it with his fingers.

"She never took this off." He said wistfully. "Her and her friends got them for each other last year as a Christmas present." He clutched the ring in his hand. "Can we have this back?"

"As soon as we're done with the investigation." Phoebe promised.

James regretfully handed back the ring. "I want to be informed of everything." He said firmly to Phoebe. "Every clue, every suspect; everything."

Phoebe nodded, understanding his pain. She thanked the couple for their time and left the room. As sad as this case was turning out to be, Phoebe couldn't help but put even more pressure on herself. Now she had a lawyer on her case. She had to solve it; there was no other option.


	39. Being Blunt

**BEING BLUNT**

It was later that evening, while Phoebe was taking a break that she got a call from Ben on her cell phone. Sara was dozing on the couch so Phoebe went into the locker room to talk to him.

"Hey." Ben said into the phone. "So it's almost ten; I'm guessing you're rain checking on dinner?"

"Oh god; I'm sorry." She told him honestly. She had been so wrapped in the case it had slipped her mind. "I'm just starting to make progress in my case."

"That's okay; it's no problem. I can order in." Ben told her. "How about tomorrow?"

Phoebe immediately got a flash of Nick in her mind. "I may be able to make a late lunch." She offered.

"I'll hold you to it." Ben told her.

After they hung up, Phoebe's pager went off; Doc Robbins wanted her and Sara in the morgue. After waking her partner up and literally dragging her off the couch, Phoebe and Sara made it down to the morgue.

"Forgive the pun; but I've made some headway in your case." Doc Robbins said, gesturing to Lucie's severed head. He pointed to a large dent in her scalp. "COD is blunt force trauma to the head."

"That's a heavy swing." Sara mused; looking over the wound.

"Or a heavy weapon." Doc Robbins added. "One things for sure; whoever did it would have been saturated with blood."

"So she was dead when she was thrown in the sand machine." Phoebe surmised.

The Doc nodded. "Death was instant. Quick way to go." He turned around and picked up a surgical tray. He showed it to Phoebe. "I found this buried in her hair. Seeing as her nails were destroyed by that machine; I'd wager it's not her own. Worth testing."

Phoebe took the tray. Inside was a fingernail. "How did I miss this?" She said to herself. This was the kind of thing that she should have picked up on the scene.

"Don't beat yourself up." Doc Robbins told her calmly. "It only came out when I was washing her; got stuck in my drain. Had I not been paying attention; I would've missed it, too."

Phoebe's phone went off again, momentarily distracting her from feeling like an idiot for missing a key piece of evidence, and it was another message from Brass. Phoebe sighed as she read it. "They found the rest of the body." She spoke up sadly.

**xxx**

It was almost midnight by the time Sara and Phoebe made it to the newest crime scene. It was in the middle of the desert where a new health resort was being built. They bought crates of sand from Shirley's Sand Temple to build the beach section of their building. Brass was waiting for the CSI's when they arrived. He met them at Phoebe's car and walked them over to the scene. Phoebe and Sara both got out their torches as they walked.

"Couple of guys thought they'd get a jump on things; work overtime." Brass told them. "Even in Vegas; no one expects this." The three of them arrived at an open crate with the mangled torso of a woman half buried in the sand. "The rest of the body is in pieces inside the crate. This might take awhile; but you gotta get her outta here before the sun comes up and bring the media with it." He left them to their devices and went to talk to the men who'd found the body once more.

Phoebe scanned her torch over the body. Lucie wore a tattered cheerleading outfit stained in blood with sand stuck all over it. Phoebe furrowed her brow and was silent for awhile.

"What are you thinking?" Sara asked.

"Well...she's in her cheerleading outfit." Phoebe said aloud. "Most girls wouldn't wear that all day, right?"

"Do you not know me?" Sara asked with a smile, wondering why Phoebe was asking her, of all people, that question.

Phoebe smirked. "I'm just saying; maybe she came from training." Phoebe explained. "We find out when the last cheerleading practice was then we'll get an approximate time of death. The body's been in the cold for god knows how long; that will have messed with the liver temp."

Sara nodded along. "Most schools don't open until seven am." She realized.

"Lucky us." Phoebe said; nodding towards the mess of human remains in front of them. "We've got something to do while we wait."

**xxx**

It was verging on sunrise when Phoebe and Sara got back to the morgue. They'd finally pieced together Lucie Stafford, but they still had to time to kill until they could visit Lucie's school. Phoebe sent Sara to get some coffee while she went to see Greg. Phoebe wasn't tired; she didn't get tired at this time anymore. It would usually hit her around lunchtime which was handy because she could get in a few hours sleep before her evening shift started. But with her lengthy nap the day before she was feeling quite animated for five-thirty in the morning; as was Greg when she caught him in the lab.

"So I hear you've got a couple of hours 'til the school opens." He said as he waited for the printout results from the fingernail pulled from Lucie's hair. "Wanna catch that sunrise?"

He grinned at Phoebe in a way that told her he was kidding; although she had the suspicion that had she said yes he'd be totally into it. "Another time." She answered with pat on his shoulder.

Pretending to look thoroughly hurt, Greg turned away from her and bit his fist. The printer spat out the results and brought them both back into work mode. Greg glanced at the results before handing them to Phoebe. "You caught a break; DNA doesn't match Lucie Stafford."

"So who the hell does it belong to?" she asked; not expecting him to have an answer. And he didn't. That part was up to Phoebe.


	40. Sing Low Sweet Chariot

**SING LOW SWEET CHARIOT**

Phoebe sat in the trace lab while she searched for the owner of the fingernail. Seeing as she was alone she was listening to one of her favourite songs; and singing along.

"_Why don't you and I get together? We'll take on the world and be together forever_…" Phoebe sang, low enough not to cause attention to herself. No one needed to be exposed to _that _sound. "_Heads we will; tails we'll try again. So I said why don't you and I hold each other? Fly to the moon and straight onto heaven...cause without you they're never gonna let me in_..."

"That is beautiful." A familiar voice called from the doorway.

Phoebe almost fell off the back of her chair; she wasn't proud of her singing voice, hence the singing while utterly alone. But, of course, he'd heard her; Ben was always dropping in at the most inopportune times. That was one of the things that had made her realize she didn't want to be Mrs. Ben Sawyer. She managed to get up off her chair safely and walked towards him. "Ben, what're you doing here?"

"Well, you said you were working. I thought I'd come see you." Ben said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "I didn't know singing was part of the job."

"Well, lucky its not or I'd have been fired already." She said with a laugh. "It's barely morning; why are you up?"

"I'm still on Sydney time." He told her. "It's about two in the afternoon tomorrow over there so…" he shrugged.

"Ahh, yes. My old friend jet lag." Phoebe remembered those sleepless nights and tiresome days back in Miami. "It'll pass the longer you're here." She paused. "How long is that, by the way?"

"Only a couple more days." He said. "My old high school back in Chicago is holding their reunion here tomorrow night. When your mum told my mum and my mum told me you work here now I was sold; figured I'd hit two birds with one stone."

"I see." Phoebe smiled. Then behind Ben she saw someone coming towards them; the same someone she was scheduled to go out with the next night. And at that moment Phoebe really didn't want Nick talking to Ben. Their awkward meeting the day before was still playing in her mind. That's why she was a little blindsided when Nick addressed Ben; and not her.

"Ben, hey," he said. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday. I was rude; I'm sorry."

Phoebe was blindsided again as Nick apologized. That was something she hadn't expected. Although today was one of those days where nothing was going as she expected.

"Hey, that's okay, man." Ben slapped Nick on the shoulder. "This job's rough; I get that." Ben turned to Phoebe. "You got time to catch a bite?"

Phoebe looked at her watch. It was now six-thirty in the morning. Sara and Phoebe wanted to get to Lucie's school, Hillcrest Academy, before the bulk of students arrived. Police cars and people in CSI vests tended to cause a scene. "Actually no, I gotta get Sara and get outta here."

"No problem." Ben said. "Hey, wanna come to my reunion tomorrow night? Open bar?"

Phoebe glanced at Nick and then back at Ben; unable not to smile. "I, ah, actually have plans tomorrow night."

"Dam, you're a hard woman to get a hold of." Ben laughed. "Alright; call me about lunch later today."

"I will." Phoebe told him.

Ben waved goodbye and then left back down the hall the way he'd come. Nick lingered in the doorway.

"Thank you." Phoebe told him.

"Hey, I didn't do it for you." He smiled.

Phoebe smiled back. "So this date tomorrow? What should I wear? Am I going fancy pants or dressed down?"

"Well, if I tell you then you won't be surprised." Nick told her with a wink.

"Well, that's not helpful." Phoebe replied.

"Let's just say...what you're wearing is perfect." Nick smiled at her and left her on her own.

Looking down at her well worn jeans and seven year old shirt Phoebe was confused. _This is perfect?_, she thought to herself._ Where the hell are we going?_ Well, she knew she wouldn't wear what she was wearing; she figured Nick meant casual. But Phoebe could still look hot in casual.

**xxx**

Each taking a coffee for the road before they left the lab, Phoebe and Sara were glad when they saw the creamy white building that was Hillcrest Academy. With Officer Willis in tow, they headed towards the front office where they met with Principal Halverson, a woman in her fifties wearing a burgundy pantsuit. Her hair was in a tight bun and her make up was minimal. She led Sara and Phoebe into her office and was obviously deeply saddened when she heard of Lucie's death.

"Oh my..." she said when she saw the morgue photo. "That's horrendous. A true tragedy." She shook her head as she handed the photo back to Sara.

"Was Lucie popular?" Pheobe asked.

Principal Halverson nodded. "Very. She and her friends were what was known as the 'It' girls. But they were more then that; they all had great GPA's and participated in numerous extra-curricular activities. Since they joined the cheerleading squad, they've brought home first place in every competitive tournament. They were very well-rounded girls; but Lucie was definitely the alpha female."

"What about enemies?" Sara brought up. "Was there anyone who didn't like Lucie and her friends?"

The Principal sighed. "As nice as those girls were to the staff; I know Lucie and her friends could be terrible bullies to some of our younger students. My hands are tied unless I see something firsthand or it happens on school grounds and I'm sure Lucie knew that. From what I'd heard; most of the bullying took place after school."

"Was anyone in particular picked on?" Phoebe asked.

"No one that came to me." The Principal told them. "But that's the catch 22 of bullying. Say nothing and it continues; tell and be bullied even more." She paused. "Although, last week, Zoë Avery, one of the girls in Lucie's group, was brought to the nurse with a black eye; quite nasty. She claimed Lucie punched her for no reason."

Sara and Phoebe looked at each other. Phoebe looked back at the Principal. "We're gonna need to talk to her friends."


	41. GRLZ Rule

**GRLZ RULE**

Lucie's three best friends obviously knew of her death by the way they sat before Sara and Phoebe. Zoë was the easiest to pick out, still sporting a bruise around her left eye. Although it was covered in make-up, Phoebe could still see the swelling around her cheekbone. Zoë and the girl beside her, Riley, were both blondes while the third girl, Gracie, was a brunette. All three of them looked distraught over the loss of their friend and they all wore identical silver rings one the ring finger of each of their right hands. Without voicing anything, both Sara and Phoebe knew they'd found out what G-R-L-Z meant; it stood for all the girls first names.

"We're very sorry about your friend." Phoebe told the girls.

"Zoë, your principal told us that Lucie gave you that black eye?" Sara brought up.

Riley and Gracie both turned and looked accusingly at Zoë. "I made out with her boyfriend well, ex-boyfriend, Joel at a party. Lucie caught us." Zoë said quietly.

Sara noted this on her clipboard. "And this happened when?"

"Saturday." Zoë told her. "But she was over it; she broke up with Joel the next day. And we were good."

"How did Joel feel about that?" Phoebe asked. "The break up?"

"He went crazy." Gracie spoke up. "I mean, like, full on psycho."

Riley nodded along. "Yeah, he'd, like, yell at her at school and then call her at night saying sorry and telling her he loved her." She rolled her eyes. "It was totally pathetic."

"Was he ever rough with her?" Phoebe asked. All three girls looked at each other but didn't speak. This told Phoebe that she had asked the right kind of question. "Look, if you know something that could help us find out who did this to Lucie; we need to know what it is."

"It a couple of days ago." Gracie told Phoebe. "After cheerleading practice. Joel used to be on the football team but got kicked off because of all the fights he'd start mid-game. He showed up as we were heading home; said he just wanted to talk. Lucie said no so Joel grabbed her by the elbow; hard."

"Zoë and I pushed him off of her." Riley brought up. "Then he cleared outta there. Lucie was okay but yesterday she had a bruise on her arm; it made it hard for her to practice."

"So you had cheerleading practice yesterday as well." Phoebe realized. The girls nodded. "Is that normal? To have it two days in a row?"

"There's a cheerleading competition next week. To be the best you have to train everyday." Zoë informed them. "Lucie was so cut that she couldn't train she went home early."

"Does she drive?" Sara asked.

"We take turns to drop each other home." Gracie said. "It was my turn yesterday but since we were still training Lucie said she'd just walk. It was still light out and she only lives about twenty minutes away. She seemed cool with it."

"And that was the last time you saw her?" Phoebe asked.

Gracie's eyes filled with tears. "Yeah."

"I called her after practice." Zoë brought up. "No answer; but her cell battery was always dying out."

"What did you girls do after practice?" Phoebe asked them.

"What we always do." Riley said simply. "Get pizza with some of other cheerleaders and head home."

Not wanting to pester the girls anymore, Phoebe ceased questioning them. She had obtained a warrant before they'd arrived at the school allowing her to take DNA samples off of each of the girls to test it against the fingernail found in Lucie's hair. All the girls complied without fuss as Phoebe swabbed the inside of their mouths.

When Phoebe asked Principal Halverson if she could speak to Joel she was told he hadn't arrived at school yet. And seeing as classes were about to begin; she assumed he hadn't come to school. Phoebe sent Sara back to the lab with the girls' DNA samples while she and Officer Wallis went to Joel's residence.

**xxx**

Joel Davies lived only about ten minutes from the school. When Phoebe and Officer Willis arrived at the front door, Joel's mother, Karen, answered. She knew why they were there and let them in straight away. She led them into the kitchen.

"My son hasn't left his bed since we found out about Lucie." Karen said sadly, fiddling with the coffee pot. "We got the call this morning at about six am from Lucie's parents." She shook her head. "It's awful."

"I'll need a DNA sample from your son." Phoebe spoke up.

"Why?" She looked quizzically at Phoebe. "You don't think he had something to do with this, do you?"

"I'm just following protocol." Phoebe told her calmly.

Karen seemed annoyed, but she didn't object any further. She pointed down the hallway. "First door on your left." She told her.

Phoebe walked down the hall and knocked twice on the door as she opened it. She could see the lump of a teenage boys huddled up on the bed with his back to her. The room was dark and stale; depressing as ever.

"Joel, my name is Phoebe Parker. I'm with the crime lab." She introduced herself as she came into the room.

Joel turned over in his bed to face Phoebe. "You're here about Luce." He stated.

"Yeah." Phoebe nodded. "I need a sample of your DNA."

"I didn't kill her." He said immediately. "I loved her."

Phoebe paused. "Her friends-"

"Those bitches don't know anything." Joel muttered bitterly. "Lucie and I had something special. I made a mistake but she just wouldn't get over it. She forgave Zoë but not me. It's not fair."

"I'm sorry." Phoebe said sincerely. She walked further into the room and sat on the end of Joel's bed. "Her friends said you were rough with her yesterday."

Joel sat upright and leant back against the headboard. "I grabbed her. I shouldn't have...but she wouldn't talk to me." He let Phoebe swab his mouth with no trouble. "Now I'll never see her again."

**xxx**

Phoebe took Joel's DNA sample back to the lab. She was greeted by a forlorn looking Sara who told her that none of Lucie's friend's DNA matched the fingernail. Together they tested Joel's sample; it wasn't a match either.

"How do we have all this information and no leads?" Phoebe asked as she and Sara poured over their evidence.

"Someone threw that girl into that machine." Sara mused over the photographs she'd taken from Shirley's Sand Temple.

"There was a window above the top of the machine." Phoebe remembered. "It was in the exterior, we didn't have cause to search it."

Sara smiled. "We do now."


	42. Tow Away

**So sorry about the long wait until an update. But Phoebe's back and this case will soon be over; onto the first date next chapter:D:D Thanks for sticking with me :D**

**TOW AWAY**

It was ten in the morning on the dot when Sara and Phoebe arrived back at Shirley's Sand Temple. Brass had managed to grab hold of a warrant so despite the protest from Joe Stanton, Phoebe was allowed to search wherever she wanted.

The sun shone brightly above the two CSI's as they started to get to work. Phoebe found the window that was from the same room as the sand machine without any trouble. Despite its appearance, the building wasn't all that large. If Sara had given Phoebe a boost, she would've been able to reach the open window with no trouble. She told as much to Sara.

"Not with a body, I couldn't." Sara replied. "There's no way one person did this alone."

Phoebe was looking at something she'd spotted on the ground. Thin wheel tracks; similar to that of bicycle tyres but even thinner; leading away from underneath the window. Phoebe's eyes followed the tracks until she saw a large, sturdy dumpster chucked against the wire fence behind the store.

"Maybe not." Phoebe said, walking over to the dumpster. Sara followed her. When she reached the bin, Phoebe held it at both sides and shook it, testing its strength. It was sturdy. "This thing is solid." She paused, biting her lip. "Help me push it, will you?"

Together, Sara and Phoebe shoved the dumpster directly under the window and pushed down a lever at the base of the bin that locked the wheels in place. With one massive heave, Pheobe pulled herself up onto the top of the dumpster and straightened. She swayed slightly on purpose, testing the sturdiness of the locked wheels, but she didn't move. She jumped a little and landed safely. Turning, she reached up to the window. It came to just below her shoulders; easy enough to climb inside. She looked down at Sara.

"Give me your hands." Phoebe reached down to her partner.

With a quizzical look and praying that Phoebe could hang onto her, Sara took her hands. The dumpster held its place firmly as Sara hopped up next to Pheobe. "I could heave a body on here then toss it in." Sara told Phoebe. "It's strong enough to hold."

An idea occurred to Phoebe; one that made her smile. "You know...there is one way to test this theory."

And an hour later, Sara and Phoebe were back in the alley with a dummy that was the same weight and height of Lucie Stafford. Phoebe, being the lead, stood back and watched Sara play out their theory. Within the space of seven minutes, Sara thrown the body through the window and moved the dumpster back into its place again the fence. The dummy had landed smoothly into the top of the sand crushing machine, which had been turned off for the purposes of this experiment. Then officer who had been watching from the inside of the building passed the dummy back out to Sara. Phoebe went over to help her friend off the dumpster.

"So it can be done." Phoebe surmised, looking up at the window. "And quickly, it would seem.

"Lucie's body would have been dripping blood; it had to have been wrapped in something." Sara said to Phoebe.

Phoebe eyed the dumpster. She turned to Sara and raised her eyebrows.

Sara shook her head. "Oh no; I just hauled a body. Into the dumpster with you." She smiled and turned Phoebe around by her shoulders; nudging her towards the bin.

"Yeah, okay." Phoebe muttered, flipping over the lid of the dumpster; immediately covering her mouth due to the smell emitting from it. "Good god."

"Something's rotting in there." Sara grimaced as she looked inside. "Well...in you go."

Phoebe winced as she climbed into the refuse and began heaving out bags of trash. While she searched, Sara wandered further down the ally. She now had her sunglasses on so the glare from the sun wasn't as harsh and she could see something they'd missed on the ground. More tracks; but these definitely belonged to a car.

"Pheebs; I got more tracks!" Sara called over her shoulder as she took some photos.

Phoebe stuck her head out of the dumpster. "Human? Vehicular? Animal?" Phoebe asked, throwing out another bag of useless trash.

"Vehicular." Sara told her, snapping another photo. "New tracks from old tires. Station wagon, maybe."

"Hey Sara." Phoebe called from the dumpster.

Sara turned to see Phoebe leaning over the side of the trash can holding a crumpled, blood drenched quilt cover. "What's the bet that the owner of this is the same guy who left those tracks?"

**xxx**

Sara and Phoebe went back to the lab with their newfound information. Sara; eager to see if her assumption about the station wagon was correct; headed to the trace lab to research the tire tracks.

Phoebe went into one of the labs to process the quilt cover. The amount of blood stained on the fabric told Phoebe that this was what Lucie had been wrapped in before she was thrown into the sand crusher. Along with the sand, Phoebe pulled a number of hairs off the comforter. Some she recognized as cat hair but the others could possibly lead them to the murderer.

Checking the time; Phoebe realized it was almost midday and therefore almost time for her lunch with Ben. A lunch that she was going to have to cancel; she had to have Greg run tests on all the hairs and she couldn't leave the lab while he did so.

Phoebe dropped off her samples in the lab and headed for the break room to make call Ben when she saw Catherine at the end of the hall finishing up a hot dog. This gave Phoebe a solution to her problem.

**xxx**

Not even an hour later, Phoebe was outside the CSI building eating a hot dog from Larry, the hotdog vendor's, cart. Larry was a regular with the CSI's; known for his pointless stories and overfilling bread rolls with onions and sauce. Ahead of her; Phoebe saw a dark green Sedan pull up into the CSI car park with Ben behind the wheel. She waved at him and he headed over to her.

"Not exactly the lunch I had in mind." Ben told her with a smile.

"Yeah; sorry about that. I can't leave right now; my case." She shrugged.

Ben ordered a hot dog just before Larry headed off down the street and he and Phoebe sat down on the curb.

"So your reunion?" Phoebe brought up. "Sounds like fun."

Ben shrugged. "It'll be good seeing people again."

"God; I dread mine." Phoebe admitted.

"You sure you can't come with me?" Ben asked hopefully. "Free dinner."

Phoebe got yet another flash of Nick in her mind; she'd been getting them all afternoon. Her date was tonight and she was already mentally going over it in her head.

"What?" Ben asked her.

Phoebe gave him a puzzled look. "Hm?"

"You're smiling." He told her.

Unaware that she had been smiling; Phoebe spoke quickly. "Just thinking of something funny Sara said." She lied convincingly. "But I can't go; sorry. I really can't break these plans for tonight."

"Can't or won't?" Ben asked mischievously.

"Bit of both." Phoebe conceded; looking up at the car park as a familiar dark green SUV pull into a space. Nick and Warrick exited the car and headed towards the entrance; but not before Nick spotted Phoebe and waved at her. Smiling; Phoebe waved back.

"I see." Ben said in a defeated tone.

Phoebe turned to him. "What?" she asked.

"That guy. Nick?" Ben looked at her; disappointment evident on his face.

"What about him?" Phoebe said evasively.

"I'm not stupid; Pheebs." Ben told her. "I saw the way he looks at you; the way he talks to you." Ben looked away from her. "I just didn't know you felt the same…"

In that moment; Phoebe realized why Ben had looked her up after all these years. He still loved her. Or at least he was thinking about her. Phoebe felt her cheeks flush; she absolutely did not feel anything for Ben anymore; she hadn't for a long time. And she was surprised that, after what she did, he was still holding out a hope that they could be together.

"Ben..." Phoebe started slowly.

"It's ok." Ben stopped her and smiled. "Really; forget it." He got to his feet and brushed off his hands. "I should head off; you got work to do."

"I care about you, Ben." Phoebe said as she got up with him. "Just not like that. Not anymore."

"I get that." He smiled. Then he looked her up and down; as if preserving her in his memory. "I'll miss ya."

Phoebe grinned. "Me too." She said. That wasn't a lie; Ben was a good friend. But with their tattered past it was best that they weren't around each other anymore. Phoebe reached out and gave Ben a big hug. Then her pager went off. She checked it. "My results are in." She muttered. Then she looked up at Ben. "I gotta go."

"No problem." Ben shoved her lightly on the shoulder. "Have a good one, Pheebs." He smiled and walked away.

Phoebe watched him head towards his car, which incidentally was parked right next to Nick's. Her pager went off again, Greg tended to get impatient, and so she hurried inside.

As Ben got into his car and buckled his seat belt; he saw Nick coming out of the CSI building and head to his own car. Thinking for a moment; Ben exited his car.

Nick had forgotten his case report. It was almost gleaming at him from the back seat of his car when he unlocked his SUV. He picked it up, slammed the door, turned to walk back inside and almost ran into Ben.

"Hey, man." Nick greeted him; slightly confused as to why he was there. "What's going on?"

"Just said goodbye to Phoebe; I'm heading out." Ben told him.

Nick was a little put off; he didn't know Ben very well and from what he'd seen; he didn't really like him. Mainly because he had known Phoebe before Nick; which for some reason really irritated him. "Oh ok. Well, good to meet ya." Nick offered him his hand which Ben shook strongly.

"Just wanted to let you know," Ben said, letting go of Nick's hand. "Phoebe is a special girl."

"Yeah; she is." Nick agreed; noting that the both of them had a defensive undertone in their voice.

"You're a lucky man." Ben said bitterly; even though he was smiling.

Nick wondered what Ben and Phoebe had been talking about moments before when he'd arrived. Whatever it was; it must have been good. From Nick's point of view, anyway.

"Take care of her." Ben said as he walked back towards his car.

Nick nodded.

**xxx**


	43. What Must Be Done

_**Here you are everyone; the long awaited first date with Phoebe and Nick. Enjoy :) The reason it's so long is because most of it is the date. I hope it lives up to what you wanted to happen between these two :D**_

**WHAT MUST BE DONE**

Phoebe met a jittery looking Greg in the lab. "What's with you?" She asked as she came in.

"I'm excited. I'm off in less then an hour and tonight?" He made the rock symbol with both of his hands. "Marilyn Manson at the Tangiers."

"Really? The Tangiers?" Phoebe asked skeptically.

"Don't judge; Pheebs." Greg told her.

Phoebe held up both of her hands. "Fine." She gave in. "You double paged me; what's so important?"

"Right." He turned and grabbed her results. "The blood on the comforter was Lucie Stafford's alright."

"Yeah, I thought as much." Phoebe said, musing over the results. "What about the hairs?"

"Well, one belongs to an orange and white tabby; one was female but no DNA hits in CODIS, but," He picked up another sheet of results and handed them to Phoebe. "This one is the kicker. Different hair; different person. I took a chance and compared it to the other hair I found and got a match for familial DNA."

Phoebe tried to get her head around this notion. "So, going by the comforter pattern I'd say the first hair belongs to a teenage girl."

"This would make the second human hair her mother, sister or aunt." Greg finished for her. "But it gets better. I ran the second hair through CODIS and got a hit." He fetched a third printout for Phoebe. "Rachel Finesse. Booked for unpaid parking tickets about a year ago. Single mother to one daughter; Brooke Finesse."

Phoebe looked down at the printout of Rachel Finesse. She seemed like a pretty nice looking woman. Unpaid parking tickets seemed to be the norm around Vegas; and they didn't discriminate. "This is awesome." Phoebe looked up at Greg and smiled.

Greg turned his cheek to her and patted it with his finger. Phoebe sighed and gave in; kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you." She told him, slapping him on the shoulder as she left the lab in search of Sara.

Holding his hand to his cheek; Greg watched her leave with a wistful look on his face. "Thank _you._" He muttered.

**xxx**

Phoebe found Sara pouring over tire treads in one of the research labs. A number of empty paper coffee cups surrounded her work. She looked up as Phoebe came in. "Hey." She greeted her, noticing the papers in her hand. "Results from the hairs?"

"Yup." Phoebe told her. "ID'd the owner of the comforter. Running on a theory." Heading over to the computer, Phoebe brought up the same school search database that had helped her identify Lucie Stafford. "How'd you go with treads?"

"I was right; it was a station wagon. The tyres were specially made but no way of identifying the actual car." Sara admitted meekly. She'd been working for almost two straight hours hoping this theory would pan out.

Phoebe passed her the file from Greg over her shoulder. "Look in there."

Sara grabbed the file. In a total of one minute she discovered that Rachel Finesse had a light blue station wagon; the one that had given her the unpaid parking ticket. "So...Rachel's car, her daughter's blanket...why would she want to kill Lucie Stafford?"

"She wouldn't." Phoebe answered to her computer screen. Sliding back in her chair, she showed Sara the page she'd just pulled up on Hillcrest Academy's student database.

"But her daughter went to school with Lucie."

**xxx**

Taking her findings to Detective Brass; Phoebe had managed to secure a warrant and was now sitting in an interview room with Brooke Finesse and her mother, Rachel. Brooke was had curly, almost wiry, auburn hair just like her mothers. She had a handful of freckles across her nose, big blue eyes and slightly overweight. Her mother was very similar in appearance except that her eyes were dark brown.

"Tell us about Lucie Stafford." Jim asked Brooke.

"What about her?" Brooke asked bitterly.

"Let's start with something easy." Jim continued. "Was she a friend of yours?"

Brooke shook her head.

"Brooke; answer his question." Her mother prodded her; clearly distressed at the situation they were both in.

"No; we weren't friends." Brooke said in a low voice. "Don't pretend you think we were. She was popular and pretty. I'm not."

"Brooke." Her mother said sympathetically, laying a hand on her daughter's back.

"We heard from some of Lucie's friends that she was a bit of a bully." Phoebe brought up.

Rachel practically laughed out loud. "That is the understatement of the year." She told Pheobe. "That girl made Brooke's life hell. Called her names; stole her books; wrote horrible things on her locker."

"Mum." Brooke tried to silence her mother in a meek voice.

"It's true." Rachel said to her daughter.

"Did you talk to Lucie's parents?" Brass asked.

Rachel nodded. "They were always at work; didn't really seem to care what I had to say." She sighed. "And then things got worse."

"How?" Brass asked Brooke.

Brooke looked up at him; clearly embarrassed. She seemed to really struggle getting the words out. "We were in gym class...getting changed afterwards...Lucie took a photo of me on her phone...in my underwear."

The girl's face was scarlet. Phoebe felt awful for her. She, along with practically every girl in the world, had been the victim of bullying, but nothing ever as heinous as that.

"When did this happen." Asked Brass.

"Ah...two days ago." Brooke said quietly.

"The day Lucie was killed." Phoebe told her. Her theory was playing out right in front of her. Brooke looked up at Phoebe with a face that told her she hadn't meant to disclose that information.

Brooke had tears in her eyes. "I'm not going to sit here and tell you how sorry I am Lucie's dead." She said with a shaky voice. "I'm not. She was _horrible_ to me. Every day it was something else. My hair; my voice; my weight. She wouldn't stop."

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Brass asked.

"I did." Brooke told him. "All my teachers said 'Ignore her'; like that's going to help."

Rachel was listening to her daughter intently, growing clearly more disturbed with every word she spoke. Her tear filled eyes threatened to spill over

"What happened?" Brass asked.

"I saw her walking home from school. Mum leant me the car that day." Brooke started slowly. Her eyes were glassy; remorse filling her expression. "There was no one else on the road...I just kept thinking about what she'd done…" she looked desperately at her mother. "She said she was going to post the picture on the internet!" Tears spilled down Brooke's face. "Everyone was going to see me like that!" She looked back to Brass. "I hit her."

"With your car." Brass finished for her.

Brooke nodded. "I didn't even realize I'd done it until I was on the curb." She shuddered. "I got out and she was there...lying on the ground...not moving." More tears came out of her eyes; mirroring the ones running down her mothers cheeks.

"Then what happened?" Brass pressed on.

"My comforter was in the back of the car; I was meant to take it to Good Will but I forgot." Brooke continued. "I wrapped her in it and put her in the back of the car."

"Why did you take her to Shirley's Sand Temple?" Phoebe asked, showing Brooke Sara's photos of the tire treads from the alley.

"It was the first place I drove past that had an ally." Brooke answered. "It was only when I got there that I saw the open window and heard the machine. I just wanted it to be over with."

"So you tossed her body into a sand crusher then dumped the blanket in the trash." Brass surmised.

Brooke nodded.

"You murdered her." Phoebe said needlessly to the girl.

Brooke looked up at her, heartbreak in her eyes. "I just wanted her to leave me alone."

**xxx**

Phoebe was happy to head home that evening. It was her night off and her date with Nick. Grissom was reviewing her case and told her he'd let her know as soon as he could if she had graduated to CSI level three. But that was the last thing on Phoebe's mind as she stepped out of the shower.

Nick had said that what she had been wearing that day was perfect for their date so Phoebe was scanning her 'casual wear' to find something suitable. She felt that jeans were appropriate first date attire so she picked out her fanciest; and therefore most expensive, pair and pulled them on. Unsure how much cleavage she was willing to show on the first date; Phoebe scanned her 'date tops' for something not too fiddly but still hot. She settled on a dusty-rose coloured, silk peasant singlet that flowed over her hips making her less self-conscious about the muffin top that tended to sprout with these particular jeans. Over that she threw on a black mini-jacket with short sleeves that rested just under her ribs and set about doing her hair and make up. Her cat, Finley, meowed his approval of her outfit from his bed in the corner before falling instantly back to sleep. Finley was practically the only thing Phoebe had brought over from Australia with her. He was black and white and fluffy and Phoebe adored him; probably a little too much.

Using a trick one of her old friends back in Australia had taught her; Phoebe pulled her hair back into a very messy bun and sprayed it with hair spray. Then, when she'd finished her make-up (not too fancy but enough to give that natural look that for some reason took even longer), she untied her hair and shook it out. This made her normally dead straight hair wavy and somewhat darker than usual.

Before Phoebe knew it; it was almost eight o'clock and she was nervously waiting for Nick. Pacing the hallway of her apartment; Phoebe wondered why she was so nervous. She had to admit she was worried about the evening. Sure, she and Nick got on like the best of friends normally; but they had never been in a 'date' situation before. What if it was too weird? What if they couldn't make the jump from friends to a couple? She wasn't sure that, if this didn't work out, they could go back to the way they had been.

The more she thought about it; the more it worried her. But she just had to keep reminding herself that this was _Nick_. And Nick was awesome. The only thing that was different about tonight then all the other times they'd gone out to movies and such was that now she was _aware_ of the fact that they were on a date.

Phoebe absentmindedly checked her bag making sure she had everything she needed. Cash, cell phone, keys; plus all the usual crap that made its way into her bag. She was mentally deliberating taking her sunglasses; even though it was dark, when the buzzer besides her front door chirped loudly. Her heart skipped a few beats as she walked over to it and greeted Nick through the speaker.

**xxx**

Downstairs, Nick was just as nervous as Phoebe was; but you wouldn't know it to look at him. He had decided that the best way to play tonight was to just pretend they were just going out as friends. That's why he'd picked the destination he'd picked. He figured jumping straight into a romantic dinner at an expensive restaurant would be too intimidating for the both of them. When Phoebe's chirpy voice came over the speaker; Nick somewhat relaxed. She sounded like normal Phoebe. This made Nick feel calmer about the whole situation.

Phoebe said she'd meet him downstairs so Nick loitered in the lobby for a few moments. When the elevator bell dinged, Nick straightened to greet Phoebe. At first he didn't realize it was her; she looked so beautiful. It was then that Nick realized that he'd only seen Phoebe at or just after work. He'd always thought she was breathtaking; but he'd never seen her like this. Her hair was curled, her clothes were bright and she smelled phenomenal.

"What?" Phoebe asked with a smile.

Nick had been staring. Not ogling; just admiring. He looked up at her. "Your hair..." he said. "You look..."

"I hope the ends of these sentences are good." Phoebe told him jokingly.

Nick laughed. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She told him, glancing up and down at his outfit. She was relieved to see he looked as casual as she did. Dark jeans, striped polo shirt and a black leather jacket. In a word; he looked hot.

Nick offered her his arm. "Good to go?" he asked her.

Taking his arm; Phoebe grinned again. "Absolutely."

And with that; all the nervousness they both had been feeling completely disappeared.

**xxx**

While the two drove along; they talked about their usual topics of conversation. Sport, TV and the latest thing they'd heard that made them laugh hysterically. When Phoebe realized she didn't recognize their surroundings she spoke up.

"Alright; tell me." She said. "Where are we going?"

Nick glanced at her sideways. "Alright." He conceded. "Do you remember what you told me last week?"

"Nick; I talk to you daily." She reminded him. "I say a lot of crap."

"Thursday." He told her. "Lunch time. You, Warrick and I were eating? You mentioned your, and I quote; overwhelming, mind-destroying, never ending hatred for clowns?"

Phoebe laughed; nodding. Then she filled with fear. "Oh god; you're not taking me to see clowns, are you? Nick; I will literally kill you."

This time Nick laughed. "No, no. Calm down; not clowns. I promise." He said. "Well, at least not a lot of them. Keep thinking. You told Warrick and me about a certain place you'd never been to in Vegas."

Phoebe had to really think this time. Thursday. Lunch. Warrick and Nick. Clowns. Then it hit her. "Oh my God!" She yelped, clapping her hands together once. "The Clark County Carnival!"

As lame is it sounded to both Phoebe and Nick, the carnival turned out to be the perfect place for their first date. It was buzzing with all kinds of people; a lot of couples and families. And it seemed to be one of the few places in Vegas that didn't have a seamy undertone.

Both Phoebe and Nick were entranced by the excitement, constantly grabbing at each other to look at different things. When Nick hung onto Phoebe's hand, she looked at him and smiled. From then on; they rarely let go of each other.

They soon got into a heavy game of throwing darts at balloons against a teenage couple. Although it was all in good fun; Nick and Phoebe were determined not to be beaten by a couple of kids.

Phoebe had matched the girl, Stacey, dart for dart so now it was up to her boyfriend, Louis, and Nick to see who'd win.

"Last dart." Phoebe told the group; she'd been commentating for the last twenty minutes. "Winner gets the teddy bear." She nodded at the vendor behind the counter who had gotten in on the game; promising a sparkly white and yellow teddy for the team that won. Louis through his dart at a bright green balloon, grazing it but it didn't pop. Stacey let out a howl of disappointment as Louis hung is head in shame. Phoebe tried to amp Nick up. "Ok, come on. You can do it; get us that bear. No; forget the bear. It's about pride. Do it for pride, Nicky."

"You got it." Nick said with a grin, taking aim at a silver balloon in the centre of the board ahead of him. He hit his target with perfect precision; the balloon popping and Phoebe cheering loudly.

"Yes!!!" She shrieked, throwing her arms around Nick. He spun her around once and placed her back on the ground so the two of them could gloat at the teenagers. The vendor then gave Phoebe the bear as a trophy which she hung onto tightly.

After filling their egos by beating a bunch of kids at a carnival game; Phoebe and Nick came across one that was unmanned. It was a game Phoebe liked to call Sledgehammer since she didn't know the real name. But she had the basic idea down. You whack a sledgehammer at a metal thing on the ground and a little marker rises up a pole. If you hit the top; you get a prize. Gag was; no one ever hit the top. She and Nick tried for about thirty minutes with no luck. In fact, they hit a different number every time. This gave Phoebe the idea to make things a little more interesting.

"Ok, this swing we bet." She said to Nick. "Highest number wins."

"You're on. How much?" He asked; completely willing to compete with her.

"Alright." Phoebe thought; determined to play for something more then money. "If you lose; you have to by me lunch tomorrow. And that goes for _anything_ I want; including lobster and champagne."

Nick laughed. "Alright." He thought about his answer; knowing very well what he wanted. "Ok, then if you lose...you have to kiss me."

Phoebe looked over at him and smiled; more then happy to oblige his request at that second but; they had a game to play. "Deal." Phoebe agreed; still grinning. She held the sledgehammer out of Nick. "Ladies first." She said.

"Oh; I see." Nick pretended to look offended. He took the sledgehammer and lined up his shot. Using every ounce of strength he had; he thwacked the metal plate as hard as he could. The marker shot up to eighty-two.

"Nice." Phoebe nodded approvingly.

Nick turned to her and handed her the sledgehammer. "You're up, sailor."

"Alright; check this out." She said; setting up her own shot. She hammered it down with all her might and the marker shot up the pole landing evenly on sixty-eight.

"Oh; would you look at that." Nick watched on happily.

Phoebe hung her head; smiling bitterly. She tossed the sledgehammer to the ground and turned to Nick. He was grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"Pay up." He beckoned her.

Phoebe walked slowly up to him; unable to keep the smile of her own face. "Alright then." She said as she neared him; halting as their bodies were just inches from each other. Phoebe felt so weird; because the notion of kissing Nick _didn't_ make her feel weird. She leant forwards into his body and gently kissed him on the mouth. He kissed her back just as gently. It was only for a few moments but they were some of the hottest moments Phoebe had ever experienced. She pulled away from Nick and smiled. "Wanna know a secret?" she asked him. "I let you win."

Nick smiled. "I don't blame you." He joked.

Phoebe pulled back laughing. "Oh really?" she started. But before she could start her rant; Nick, smiling as he did so, took her by the back of her head and pulled her in for a much deeper kiss. It took Phoebe a moment to settle, but once she did it got so much better. She wrapped her arms around Nick's neck when he leaned in so their bodies were clenched tight against each other as they continued to kiss passionately. Phoebe didn't even realize how long they were there until a gruff voice from behind her broke their moment.

"Do I need'ta getta hose?" A man called.

Phoebe and Nick broke apart and looked at him. He was wearing a seedy smile and had his arms across his chest. "May we help you?" Phoebe asked irritably.

"We're closin' up fer the nigh'; you two might wanna getta room." He said chuckling as he started to pack up the sledgehammer game.

But Phoebe and Nick did not get a room; Phoebe was adamant about not sleeping with men on the first date. Although with Nick she was finding that a very difficult principle to uphold. They waited until the last moment to leave the carnival and then, instead of heading home, they drove halfway back to the city to the middle of the Clark County dessert. There; the two of them lay atop Nick's SUV bonnet staring at the stars; connecting them to make new constellations.

Nick was laughing at Phoebe's newly named assemblage of stars, The Leather Belt, when he had the urge to ask her something. "Wanna go to dinner with me Friday night?"

"Yeah." Phoebe answered immediately; not even having to think about it. She felt Nick take her hand so she threaded her fingers through his. They simply laid there next to each other for hours, talking about everything. Their lives, where'd they'd been, where they wanted to go; everything. It was only when Phoebe saw the sun rising ahead of her that she realized how long they'd been out.

Nick drove back to Phoebe's apartment and walked her into the lobby to her lift. It was unspoken between them but they both knew it was too soon for him to come upstairs. Although if Phoebe had offered Nick would've been up there before she could finish the sentence.

Instead; he waited with her for the elevator. "Pheebs, I gotta tell ya; I've never had a date like that before."

Phoebe laughed lightly. "I know; me neither." She admitted. She leaned in and kissed him again. He kissed her back, holding her body close to his own. The ding of the elevator stopping and its doors opening broke their concentration. Phoebe managed to back into the elevator with Nick still attached to her face.

She regretfully pulled away. "Good morning, Nick." She told him.

"Morning." He replied; kissing her again, balancing his hands on the sides of the elevator. Phoebe had her hands on either side of his face. The doors repeatedly tried to close between them. Finally managing to tear herself away from Nick, Phoebe got into the elevator and pressed level four.

Nick stayed where he was until the elevator doors closed taking Phoebe out of his view. Nick hung his head and grinned to himself. Then he turned and left the building; unable to stop smiling the whole way home.

As soon as the lift started moving, Phoebe screamed a little and shook her head so her hair flailed wildly. She was so elated she could barely keep still; thankful that she didn't have to work until that evening. Once she got inside her apartment, jumped up and down a little and gave Finley some much needed attention, Phoebe realized she had a message on her answering machine. It was from Grissom; Phoebe had been promoted to CSI Level Three.

**xxx**


	44. Favours

_**Hey again everyone. Just wanted to say a big thank you to you all; I received so much feedback for my last chapter (making me realize how much you guys like Nick and Phoebe together—which makes me happy ;P) so I just wanted to thank you :D And I hope you like what's to come for these two because trust me; there's more. **_

**insert evil laugh**

**FAVOURS**

_I love sleeping here,_ Phoebe thought as she woke up. For the past three nights that had been her first thought as she awoke. She was lying in Nick's bed completely over the top of his body. Her head was resting on his right shoulder and she had a leg on either side of his body. Her right hand was lying on Nick's bare chest, across his heart, and his left hand was gently clasping her fingers; his grip weak due to the fact he was still asleep. Pressing her head deeper into the crook of his neck, Phoebe felt Nick's right arm move behind her as he placed his hand on her naked back. The blanket lay over both of their waists and that was the only form of modesty they had at that moment. Knowing that Nick was now awake, too, Phoebe turned her head and looked up at him. He was yawning but felt her movement and looked down at her.

"Morning." He said quietly, tracing his fingers up and down her exposed back.

"I think its afternoon." She replied, shifting slightly so she was cuddling him more.

They had both been working crazy hours the past week thanks to some very involved cases. But now they both had the night off and they intended to spend it together. The two of them had been dating for about six weeks and sleeping together for one. So far, Phoebe felt everything was going great. The one problem was that no one at work knew about their relationship. Both she and Nick felt that it would cause such a useless uproar that there wasn't any point in coming clean as of yet. Phoebe had a strange feeling that Warrick knew, though.

Nick noticed the slight crinkle in her brow. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

She sighed. "Just about stuff." She muttered. "Work."

"That is so hot." He chuckled.

She slapped him gently. "You know what I mean. I don't know what the rules are with colleagues hooking up."

"There are rules?" Nick asked. He thought on it for a second as Phoebe began kissing his neck. "I can't imagine Ecklie would be too thrilled…" he muttered.

Phoebe immediately stopped kissing him. "Well I just lost _my_ erection." She sighed; pulling away from Nick's chest.

"Hey, hey." He halted her with a smile, pulling her back down and kissing her deeply on the mouth.

Phoebe willingly fell back into Nick and let him roll her onto her back as they continued kissing.

And then her cell phone rang.

The pair of them groaned at the interruption. Phoebe recognized the personalized ring tone as the one she'd set for Catherine so she moved to retrieve it from Nick's bedside table. "Hello?" Phoebe answered begrudgingly as Nick leant his chin on her sternum.

"How much do you love me?" Catherine responded; not in a proud way; as if she'd perhaps just gotten free tickets for Phoebe's favourite band and was giving her one. It was more that she was really asking because bad news was on its way.

"What do you want?" Phoebe asked, playing with Nick's hair.

"A gigantic favour on your day off." Catherine asked pleadingly. "The lab is empty; everyone's on cases. I got a double homicide and a missing baby. Window of time is closing and I could use you."

"Oh, Cath..." Phoebe said reluctantly. She had plans for that day and most of them involved not getting out of Nick's bed.

"Please, Phoebe." Catherine pressed. "I'm asking you as a friend."

"Aw, not as a friend, Cath!" Phoebe clapped a hand on her forehead. It wasn't as though she couldn't say no; it was more that Catherine only ever asked her for work favours when she really needed them. Sighing heavily, making sure Catherine could hear it, Phoebe relented. "Alright fine; but you can't use that excuse again for, like, a year."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Catherine replied in a sing-song voice.

Phoebe hung up her phone and felt Nick heave a sigh on top of her; he knew she was going to have to leave. She looked at him and saw his face had fallen. "Don't look so sad...although it is kinda sweet." Phoebe told him; patting the side of his face as she pulled the sheet around her body and climbed off the bed.

"But...we had plans." He nodded at the bed and smiled.

"I know." Phoebe replied; leaning back onto the bed and kissing him. "But duty--well, _Catherine_--called." She pulled on her jeans over her naked body and quickly threw on her t-shirt and began searching for her underwear.

"Do you have to go _now_?" Nick asked, curling a pillow under his head and watching her.

"If we don't want anyone to get suspicious of us then I've gotta change before I meet Catherine." Phoebe told him; locating her bra tangled at the end of Nick's curtain.

Nick found something underneath his pillow. "Looking for these?" He called to Phoebe.

She turned and saw him spinning her underwear on his finger. She grinned. "Hand 'em over."

He smiled and beckoned her to come to him. "You want 'em…"

Phoebe sighed and wandered back over to the bed. She climbed towards Nick on her hands and knees and kissed him full on the mouth, grabbing her underwear out of his hand as she did so. "I gotta go." She whispered. She kissed him quickly again. "Call me." With one final peck on the lips Phoebe jumped off the bed, grabbed her phone and handbag and left the room.

Nick watched her the entire time and, the second she left, fell back flat on his bed with a massive smile on his face.


	45. Shattered Glass

**SHATTERED GLASS**

Phoebe managed to get home and into the shower within ten minutes. She changed into new jeans and a fitted dark blue t-shirt with FOCUS written across the chest, let her hair air-dry then got back in her SUV and headed for Catherine's crime scene. She'd been sent the address in a text message and was thankful that it wasn't that far from her home. Traffic was non-existent so Phoebe let her mind wander to the incredibly sexy man she'd just left behind. Things with Nick were great. Well; not great. Fantastic. They'd been together for a grand total one month and it was definitely the best relationship Phoebe had ever been in. It was only after their fourth date in the first week of their relationship that Phoebe realized that the reason it was so great had to do with the fact that they were friends first. They already knew what each other likes and dislikes were so they didn't have to tip-toe around and leave hints to find out. They both knew each others sense of humor, favourite types of movies, favourite music, sports, TV shows. It was like starting on the fifteenth date. And Phoebe loved it.

The only issue she had; which Nick seemed to think was easily resolved, was that no one at work knew yet. Phoebe was tentative about bringing it up. Things were going so well; if Warrick, Sara, Grissom and Greg knew...she was worried things would change. And she was having too much fun to ruin their relationship by blabbing at the office. But she also didn't want to lie to her friends so her plan was to be as evasive as she could and not say anything that would warrant more questions.

Phoebe pulled up to the crime scene, easily visible due to the amount of police tape surrounding the street, and parked near Catherine's SUV. She retrieved her kit from the back seat, slipped on her sunglasses to protect from the evening glare and headed over to Catherine who was standing outside of a beautiful, quaint, one-story home collecting glass from beside a broken window.

"You owe me." Phoebe said as she arrived beside her.

Catherine got to her feet and smiled. "You took your time; I thought you lived close by here." She said while folding the top of the thick paper evidence bag closed. They always used paper bags for glass; it tended to cut right through plastic ones.

"Well, it was my day off. I was in the bath." She answered without missing a beat. Catherine seemed to believe this; she didn't ask anymore questions. Phoebe looked up at the lifeless home in front of her. "What's going on here?"

"Neighbour called it in." Catherine said, nodding in the direction of an elderly woman on the sidewalk talking to a police officer. "Saw the broken window; called 9-1-1. Cops found two dead bodies inside; mother and daughter. Juliet and Marie Edwards. David's in there right now."

Sighing, Phoebe looked at the broken window and realized it was looking into a nursery. The yellow walls with flowers painted around the edge told her it was a little girl's room. "Baby's missing?" Phoebe asked Catherine; remembering what she'd said when she called earlier.

"Yeah, Bella Edwards; one year old. Brass is on it." Catherine nodded. "Doesn't make that much sense to me. Who kills a mother and daughter just to steal a baby? Window's at the front of the house; no alarm system. Easy smash and grab."

Phoebe shrugged. "Where were the mother and daughter found?" she asked.

"In the kitchen; other side of the house. That also doesn't make sense. Killer would've had to come in the back way to get to them." She shook her head.

"Find something useful?" Phoebe nodded at the baggie of glass in Catherine's hand.

"Piece of glass with a couple of threads on it." Catherine informed her. "I'm still on the perimeter. I wanna get finished before the sun goes down. Head inside and see if David's done; would you?"

Phoebe grinned. "Already there."

**xxx**

Phoebe found David hunched over the body of a young woman in the kitchen. He was packing up his kit so Phoebe knew he was finishing up. "Hey Dave." She greeted him.

"Oh, hi Phoebe." David replied. "Just finishing up."

"COD?" Phoebe asked, standing beside the body of the older woman. There was no blood on the floor; odd for a double homicide. But there were two pools of liquid beside each woman's body along with the remnants of two glasses; meaning both women probably had glasses in their hands before they fell.

"I'd have to run tests to be sure but I'd say poisoning." David told her. "No signs of rape or even violence. Nothing to show force or rage. I'd hazard a guess you're killer could be female."

"Makes sense." Phoebe told him. "Baby's still missing." She sighed slightly. Phoebe had had cases where children were victims before; but never a missing child. Even so; every time a baby was involved a little part of her broke inside. But she had to remain professional; this was her job. As soon as you got attached to victims it was harder to leave work at work. And that let to all kinds of mess.

Two officers came in with gurneys to take the bodies away. David promised Phoebe he'd call her when the results of the autopsy came in then left her to work. Once Phoebe had the kitchen to herself; she got started. She took samples of both the puddles of liquid. There were no other plates or cups out in the open so Phoebe headed for the rubbish bin. There was an empty bottle of tile cleaner sitting on the top of the garbage that Phoebe grabbed into evidence.

Nothing else jumped out to Phoebe to take in so she headed down the hallway towards the nursery. Along the way she stopped and looked at photographs that lined the walls of the hall. There were pictures of the young woman, Marie, at various ages with her mother. They both had the same telltale blonde hair that was both straight and curly; the style Phoebe envied. Both had deep brown eyes as well. There was also one very old photo of Marie with a man who had her nose; her father Phoebe assumed. But he wasn't in any other pictures. The more recent photos sat atop a table near the front door. These photos included baby Bella with her mother and sister but not one with a man who could be her father. Bella had sparkling blue eyes and dark brown hair making Phoebe doubt whether she and Marie had the same father.

Phoebe head into the nursery and found more photos of Bella with her mother and sister. Her name was also spelled out on the door with letters that doubled as different flowers. Scanning the ground carefully, Phoebe noticed some heavy footprints in dirt around the crib. They led from the front of the crib to the broken window. Bending down, Phoebe tape lifted some of the dirt off the ground for procedural reasons; chances were it was the same dirt outside the window. But you never knew what people stepped in. Phoebe had a case once where a man had stepped in a bug that was almost extinct. It turned out he worked at an insect plant where they were trying to bring back the species and he'd stepped on one of his subjects.

Looking into the empty crib; something caught Phoebe's eye. On the corner pale pink sheets of the bed were some brown droplet stains that Phoebe immediately suspected of being blood. The samples were too small to test right there; she'd have to take it back to the lab. She reached in and carefully folded up the sheet.

Catherine leant in the window. "This thing was broken from the inside." She told Phoebe. "But I don't know what with. I've got no brick or giant rock or anything heavy enough to break the glass."

"Killer probably took it with her." Phoebe mused.

"Her?" Catherine raised her eyebrows.

Phoebe shrugged. "Dave said there were no bruises or violence on the bodies; a baby's missing, nothing seems stolen...just seems like a female thing."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Catherine warned her.

Phoebe nodded while rolling her eyes. "Have you heard from Brass?" she asked

"Baby's still missing." Catherine sighed. "But every hospital, police station and church in town is on the lookout."

"What are the chances she's still alive?" Pheobe asked tentatively.

"Well...going with your hunch and the killer is a woman...she kills Marie and Juliet to get them out of the way and takes the baby as her own." Catherine thought aloud. "And if she did that it means she probably wants to...be a mother. She wouldn't kill her."

"We hope." Phoebe muttered.

Catherine watched her for a moment. "You done in here?"

"Almost." Phoebe told her.

Catherine checked her watch. "Well get back to Greg as soon as you can; we're already running out of time."


	46. Unknown

_**Sorry about the long wait for an update. I haven't forgotten about these two at all and have plans for them way into the future. Hope you stick with me!**_

**UNKNOWN**

Phoebe headed back to Greg at the lab and left the samples of liquid from beside the bodies and the empty tile cleaner bottle in his capable hands. Then she went into one of the empty trace labs and set about going over the pale pink sheet she'd retrieved from the bed.

Catherine joined her moments later and began testing her glass fragments she'd taken from the front yard. "Brass pulled medical records on Juliet from when she had her daughters." She told Phoebe. "You're hunch was right; her daughters had different daddies."

Pheobe looked up at her and raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Catherine nodded. "Marie's father Brian died when she was five; cancer."

"And what about Bella?" Phoebe asked.

"That's where it gets kinda funny; we can't find a record of her father." Catherine sighed. "There's no name on the birth certificate."

"Fantastic." Phoebe muttered sarcastically.

"Only other living relative is Juliet's father; he lives just out of Henderson. Brass is bringing him in to claim the body's right now." Catherine put on a pair of microscopic glasses and set about removing the threads from the glass in front of her.

Phoebe carefully cut into the sheet in her hands and cut out the area where the suspected blood stains were. Then she cut out an even smaller square of the fabric and placed it into a test tube with chemicals to separate the blood and chemical compounds. She set the diffuser up and let the blood sample spin around rhythmically while she scanned the remaining fabric of the sheet. She glanced up and saw Catherine examining something even closer under the large magnifying glass.

"Something good?" Pheobe asked.

"Cotton." Catherine answered. "With pink dye, I think. Could be from a baby blanket? Intruder wraps her up to keep her safe from the glass." Catherine mused; going over the scenario in her head.

"Well, this sheet is 100 cotton." Phoebe told her. "Maybe there's a blanket to match?"

"Maybe." Catherine nodded; looking back at a second thread she'd pulled off the glass. "Now this is definitely not cotton. Leather; maybe. I'll get it to Greg."

"Hold the phone." Phoebe quipped, spotting something on the blanket. She tweezed it up and held it under the lamp beside the table. "I've got a hair. Human and way too long to belong to an infant."

"Greg is gonna love us." Catherine said with a grin.

"Hey; we're keeping him busy." Phoebe returned her smile.

"I love you guys." Greg said to Catherine and Phoebe twenty minutes later in the lab. "You always bring in the goods."

"Impress us." Catherine said, holding her hands out expectantly.

"My mission in life." He answered with a flirty grin. "But bad news first. The hair you pulled off the baby blanket was her mothers. I matched her DNA." Greg handed Phoebe the test results.

Phoebe took the results and scanned them feeling deflated. "Bugger." She muttered.

"Don't look so down." Greg handed a second set of results to Catherine. "Good news is that _was_ blood on the bed sheet. Doesn't match Juliet, Marie or Bella. Ran it through the database; no hits."

"What about the threads from the glass?" Catherine asked.

"One was leather; dyed red. Probably from a jacket. The other was cotton dyed pink; the same chemical combination as the sheet." Greg told them.

"Probably a set." Catherine said to Phoebe. "My guess is she wrapped Bella in the blanket and dove out the window. Thanks, Greg."

"Anytime." Greg said as the girls left.

**xxx**

While Catherine went to meet Brass Phoebe set herself up in the DNA lab as she tried to identify Bella's father. Seeing as there was no father's name on the birth certificate Phoebe was rifling through all kinds of records trying to match the uncommon alleles in Bella's DNA to see if anything similar popped up. So far she'd searched all the deceased and incarcerated male records and nothing had come up. Taking a second to stretch her limbs Phoebe glanced at the clock and realized she'd been working at this computer for two hours. She always seemed to get lost while working on DNA.

"Hey." Catherine greeted her as she came into the lab. "Anything?"

"Not yet." Phoebe said. "But I'll keep at it."

"Here." Catherine handed her a cup of coffee. "Full of sugar and caffeine; it'll keep you going."

"Thanks." Phoebe said gratefully taking the cup from Catherine, who winked in reply. "What happened with Brass?"

Catherine sighed. "He just finished with Juliet's father, Steve. "Sweet guy. Completely shattered that he lost his girls. He's desperate for us to find that baby."

"Did he say anything about Bella's father?" Phoebe asked, blinking her eyes a few time at Catherine as she adjusted to not looking at a computer screen.

Catherine shook her head slowly. "He said he never met the guy; that Juliet came to him when she was six months pregnant and said Daddy was outta the picture. She never brought it up so he never asked."

Phoebe rested her chin in her hands. "That's helpful."

Both of their pagers went off at the same time. And both were messages from David at the lab.

"Autopsy's done." Catherine said happily. "I'll take this; you keep looking."

Phoebe was already half out of her chair; she was eager to find out if Juliet and Marie had indeed been poisoned. But she was equally eager to find Bella's father. "You sure?"

Catherine was already halfway out the door. "Absolutely."

Two more hours and seven more cups of coffee later; Phoebe was still having no luck. As she tossed the seventh Styrofoam cup into the wastebasket she found herself wondering why she didn't just re-use them. Perhaps it was because of the guise a new cup wore; it promised a fresh, hot cup of coffee. But CSI coffee was known for being bland, weak and always lukewarm. And even though she knew this; Phoebe reached for a new cup every time.

When Phoebe's favourite song started ringing in her ears she thought she was just daydreaming until she remembered she'd just got it as her new ring tone. She fumbled for her cell in her jeans pocket and answered without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"

"So I'm in bed and I'm thinking...this is just so boring without Pheebs..." Nick's voice said through the phone.

"What do you want?" She hadn't meant that to sound as harsh as it did, she was just so frustrated with not being able to find Bella's father. She had to remind herself that wasn't Nick's fault.

"Just to talk…" Phoebe could tell from the sound of his voice that he was taken aback by her tone.

"You said to call...are you okay?" Nick's pitch softened.

"Yeah, sorry." Phoebe tried to sound as normal as possible. She rubbed her eyes with one hand. "Just this case…"

"It's bad, huh?"

"Bad and ongoing. I don't know when I'm getting out of here." She glanced ominously at the thousands of unknown males in the records on the screen in front of her.

"Want me to come in?" Nick asked.

"Yes." Phoebe answered immediately. "But you can't." It wouldn't look good for either of them if Phoebe called her boyfriend in when things got too hard.

"I will if it'll make you happy." Nick offered.

Phoebe smiled. "No; I'll be fine. But thanks anyway." She said as honestly as she could. "Really." Nick didn't reply; she knew he didn't believe her. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, ok." Nick replied. "You sure you're alright?"

"Totally. Bye." She hung up the phone and held it to the centre of her forehead. Then she looked back up at the computer and started searching. Again.


	47. Call Me Irresponsible

**CALL ME IRRESPONSIBLE**

Catherine had called Phoebe from the morgue after she'd seen David. Both Juliet and Marie had been poisoned with a combination of the tile cleaner Phoebe had found and some pills that had been crushed up into their drinks. The who, how and why of that situation were still unknown. But barely two minutes after she'd hung up the phone with Catherine, Phoebe got her own break in the case.

"Catherine!" Phoebe hollered as she ran into the break room. "Cath; I did it!" She hurried excitedly over to her partner who was eating her lunch. She looked up at Phoebe as she jumped around in front of her. "Bella's father, I found him. I searched everywhere; and I do mean everywhere. Criminals, deceased, missing; everything. He didn't show. So I had this idea; why does he have to be a deadbeat? We're just assuming he was. Maybe Juliet had a one night stand with a CEO or something. Or a celebrity or-"

"Pheebs; make the point." Catherine cut in.

"I searched the records of the hospital where Juliet had Bella." Phoebe said proudly.

"Those records are sealed." Catherine reminded her.

"_Patient_ records are sealed." Phoebe told her. "Not employees."

**xxx**

"I had no idea Bella was mine." Jake Hinkley told Catherine and Phoebe. Phoebe had matched his DNA to Bella's and found they had thirteen alleles in common; they were definitely related.

As she stood across from the young doctor in an empty hall of the hospital, Phoebe was incredibly suspicious of him. "She has your eyes."

"When was the last time you saw Juliet?" Catherine asked Jake.

"Couple of months ago. Bella climbed out of her crib and hit her head." Jake told them. "I saw them in the waiting room."

"You didn't even have a tiny thought that she was your daughter?" Phoebe asked.

"No." Jake told her firmly. "Why would I? We had sex once; ages ago. We met at a New Years Eve party. I never knew her phone number or her last name. It was very unattached."

"Well, not anymore." Catherine told him. "Your daughter is missing."

Jake got immediately more stand-offish. "You don't think I had something to do with it?"

Phoebe and Catherine remained silent.

"You ladies are crazy." Jake shook his head. "I didn't know the kid; I barely knew the mother. Why the hell would I steal a baby?"

Catherine and Phoebe couldn't argue with that; he had no motive. Though Phoebe felt in her gut that he was lying; they had to let him get back to work. The two of them headed back to Catherine's car talking in low voices the whole way.

"If he saw that baby two months ago he had to know it was his." Catherine said to Phoebe as they walked. "Father's know. And Bella looks just like him."

"So why lie?" Phoebe asked.

"That's why they pay us the mediocre bucks." Catherine sighed. "To find out."

"Ok, look." Phoebe started. "If he knew that kid was his then there has to be some evidence of it somewhere. He must have a photo, a blanket; something."

"We can't get a warrant based only on the fact that it's Bella's father." Catherine told her. "No judge would issue one without reason of belief he took the baby. He's claiming he didn't know she was his; we gotta prove him wrong."

"Well, Juliet's dead, the grandfather never met Bella's father..." Phoebe listed. She felt a stress twinge in the back of her neck and loosened it with her hand. Whilst twisting her neck she noticed a surveillance camera in the corner of the hallway. A light bulb went off in Phoebe's head. "Wait a second…Jake said he saw Juliet and Bella two months ago here in the waiting room. This place is crawling with cameras."

Catherine caught on and nodded; obviously impressed. "They do capture everything."

**xxx**

Phoebe and Catherine tracked down the tapes from the hospital and were now sifting through them with Archie back in the analysis lab. They discovered through Bella's medical history the date she'd been taken to the hospital after hitting her head. Catherine mused over the records as she stood to Archie's left. Phoebe sat beside him; eyes stinging from watching the fast forwarded footage on the big screen in front of her.

"Baby got six stitches in her forehead." Catherine read from the footage. "Same thing happened with Lindsey; for some reason they just like climbing outta there."

"Wait, wait; there." Phoebe grabbed Archie's shoulder, making him stop the tape. She just saw Juliet walk into the waiting room with baby Bella on her hip. "That's her."

Catherine leant in on the desk as Archie moved the footage along. Sure enough, Nurse Jake Hinkley wandered into the waiting room moments later. He took a double take when he saw Juliet and Bella.

"Well, he didn't expect them." Catherine said aloud; though more to herself then the room.

But then Jake walked towards Bella and Juliet. Juliet got to her feet; obviously happy to see Jake, and hugged him. Then Jake took Bella and cuddled her to his chest before the two of them walked into the hospital together. Archie froze the footage on a shot of Jake holding the small of Juliet's back as they exited the waiting room. Catherine and Phoebe looked at each other both silently agreeing on one thing; now they had enough for a warrant.

**xxx**

Jake Hinkley's apartment was modest but it was what you expected from a nurse still paying off his student loans. Phoebe was scanning the bedroom, waiting for Catherine who had taken a phone call out into the hallway. The bed was half-made, the way Pheobe used to make her bed as a kid; just chuck the blanket over the top. There were clothes on the floor; a few stray beer cans and the odd clump of cat hair here and there.

"That was Greg." Catherine said as she came back into the room. "Blood on the blanket did _not_ match Jake."

"Crap." Phoebe muttered.

Catherine rubbed her temple. "Maybe the blood isn't as big as we think it is. Maybe a baby sitter had a paper cut or something." She sighed and went to her kit to grab some latex gloves. "Are you good in here?"

"Yeah, fine." Phoebe told her. Catherine mentioned something about searching the living room but Phoebe was too into her work to really pay attention. They had to find something tangible that connected Jake to Bella. Though the footage was enough to show that he knew Bella and Juliet better then he said he did; and thus enough for a warrant, they needed something that said he'd had her in his home; spent time with her away from his hospital. Phoebe rifled through every drawer of the dresser and came up with nothing baby-esq. She glanced under the bed but all she found was dirty socks and a few stray sneakers. Next she headed to the cupboard. It was pretty much a storage room; full of boxes and things that Jake hadn't seemed to get around to tossing out. Phoebe grabbed a heavy box off the top and opened it; it was full of medical textbooks. She grabbed another box; miscellaneous broken electronics. She reached for a shoebox tucked away in a corner and sat down cross legged; inside was hundreds of photos. She began to look through them; completely unaware of her surroundings or the person who had just entered the room. She vaguely registered footsteps but didn't think much of it until:

"Boo."

"Agh!" Phoebe dropped the photos in her hand and clutched her chest. Looking up she saw Brass grinning down at her from the cupboard doorway. "You. Suck." She told him bitterly, gathering up the photos she'd dropped.

"This is what I do." Brass chuckled. "Thought I'd have a laugh before I told you the bad news."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I was just at the hospital." Brass told her. "Jake didn't come back from his lunch break."


	48. Hiding

**HIDING**

Phoebe abandoned her photo search after finding yet another drunken party picture and left Catherine at the scene to go with Brass to the hospital. The were talking to his boss, Dr. Iris, who seemed stunned that her nurse had committed the crime he was accused of.

"I've known Jake for two years," Dr. Iris was saying. "I can't believe he'd kidnap an infant."

"So you didn't know that Bella was his daughter." Brass surmised.

Dr. Iris shook her head. "No; he never mentioned her; I've never seen pictures…"

"When did you notice Jake was gone?" Phoebe piped up.

"About twenty minutes ago; he didn't show up for rounds." Dr. Iris told her. "He's never late; he loves this job. Then Captain Brass called asking for him…"

"We're gonna need to see his locker." Brass told the doctor.

"Of course." She agreed. "I'll take you there right now."

Brass continued talking with Dr. Iris while Phoebe went through Jake's locker. It was pretty empty; all she found was an extra set of blue scrubs, a water bottle and a stack of photos on the bottom. Picking up the photos, Phoebe expected to see more of the same pictures she'd seen in Jake's apartment. But she was wrong. These were family pictures. Jake and two elderly people on his graduation day, Jake and two college friends at a football game. And the last was Jake and a beautiful blonde woman with a round face and brown eyes; a woman Phoebe did not recognize at all. But the way that Jake was kissing her cheek in the photo made Phoebe think she'd just identified his girlfriend.

"Excuse me, Dr. Iris?" Phoebe said as she went over to her and Brass. She held up the photo of Jake and the blonde. "Do you know this woman?"

"Well, yes, that's Ava." Dr. Iris said. "She's a receptionist here down in admissions; has been for almost a year. The two of them are a very cute couple."

"Is Ava on lunch, too?" Brass asked suspiciously.

"No." Dr. Iris said. "She's not working today."

**xxx**

Phoebe hurried back to the lab as quickly as she could. Greg was swamped so she took her theory to the spare lab and quickly retrieved the sample of blood from the baby bed sheet. She searched the hospital records for Ava Greene's mandatory employee blood results and set up a comparison. Catherine entered the lab moments before the results were due.

"I just saw Brass; he said you came running in here with a theory." She sounded a little annoyed. "You didn't think to call me?"

Elation in her heart, Phoebe hit the print button on the computer. She spun around in her chair and faced her partner. "I'm sorry, Catherine. I am but I had to run with this."

"What?" Catherine asked.

Phoebe grabbed the print out and handed it to Catherine. "The blood on the sheet matched Ava Greene."

"Who's Ava Greene?" Cath

"Jake's girlfriend." Phoebe told her. Then she quickly explained what Dr. Iris had told her and Brass.

"And now no one can find Jake or Ava?" Catherine asked when Phoebe finished talking.

Phoebe shook her head. "But Brass put an APB out on both of their vehicles." That moment, Phoebe's pager buzzed from its clip on her jeans. She checked it. "And that's why I love him." She showed Catherine her pager message from Brass. _Got 'em_, it read.

**xxx**

Ava Greene's residence was a small, rundown home in the outskirts of Las Vegas. It looked like it had been abandoned years ago. But when Catherine and Phoebe pulled up out the front of the house they saw Jake Hinkley in handcuffs sitting inside a police car. Both CSI's headed towards the Brass who was standing on the balcony of the house.

"He knows his rights; he's not talking. No sign of Ava or the baby." Brass nodded towards a solemn looking Jake. "House is yours, ladies." He gestured to the open front door with the policewoman guarding the threshold.

Phoebe followed Catherine into the house and they split up. Catherine called the front of the abode so Phoebe headed down the back. The decorating was sparse and there wasn't really anything that showed the owner's personality. Boring, white wicker furniture, a TV on a rollaway tray and a large, moth-eaten rug across the floor were the makings of the living room. There was a police officer at the back door as well; a young guy Phoebe hadn't met before.

"You searched the house?" She asked him.

"Yes, ma'am." He answered with a nod. "No sign of anyone else."

Phoebe nodded and went back to work; checking under the wicker furniture. All she found were old newspapers and dust balls. Getting to her feet, Phoebe's boot got caught in a hole in the rug and she tumbled forwards onto her knees.

"Miss, you okay?" The police officer from the door said as he helped her to her feet.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." Phoebe said, brushing off her knees. Then she noticed the thin metal handle hidden in the floor underneath the rug she'd just shifted. "You guys didn't see that?" Phoebe asked, knowing full well by the undisturbed dust that they hadn't.

Brass came in at that moment and saw the hidden door. He told off a couple of police officers for their incomplete search before leading the team into the basement. After Brass and two police officers disappeared, Phoebe followed taking her gun from its holster on her hip. In her career she'd only ever used it three or four times and one didn't count because the 'suspicious suspect' she'd seen in the shadows and shot at turned out to be an overflowing garbage can. She didn't want to use it; but it was protocol in a dangerous situation.

What the upstairs of the house lacked in furniture and decoration was made up for in the basement. It had about three or four extra rooms down there but all were filled with shelves that were then packed with boxes. _It was as though they lived down here_, Phoebe thought to herself. Suddenly there was a loud banging noise ahead of Phoebe to the left.

"There!" Brass called coming out of one of the rooms and heading towards the noise. He got out his radio. "Suspect fleeing the scene! Out the back! Go!" He called, hurrying back up the stairs to the first level. The two other policemen ran after Brass leaving Phoebe on her own. She hurried over to where Brass had pointed and saw that the banging had come from an open hatch window. And running away from the house was a woman with long, blonde hair. As Phoebe watched she saw the woman tackled by a policeman and then pulled to her feet. Phoebe could clearly see the woman didn't have an infant with her.

Sighing, Phoebe holstered her weapon and head back for the stairs. It was only when her foot hit the first step Phoebe realized something else was downstairs with her. She stopped moving. It sounded like a soft humming and it was coming from one of the rooms towards the hatch window. Removing her gun once again, Phoebe made her way towards the sound. But as she got nearer to the sound, Phoebe knew she didn't need her gun as the sound went from a soft hum to an audible infant's cry. Phoebe hurriedly put her gun away and rushed into the room. Behind one of the shelves and lying in a box of old towels was a whimpering baby girl with dark hair and beautiful eyes; baby Bella. Phoebe grabbed her up into her arms and cradled her tightly.

"It's ok." She said soothingly. "You're ok now."

"Pheebs?" Catherine's voice called from the basement stairs. "We got Ava; you down here?"

"Cath; I've got Bella." Phoebe said, clutching the baby as she went back out towards the stairs.

"What?"

"I found the baby." Phoebe said as Catherine came into view. "She's ok, she's not hurt."

Catherine breathed a sigh of obvious relief. "What the hell happened here?"

**xxx**

"Juliet calls me about a month ago; says she doesn't want me around the baby anymore." Jake said in a low voice. He was sitting in an interrogation room with Captain Brass and Phoebe. Catherine was in a similar room with Ava; trying to get her to explain why her blood was on Bella's bed sheet. Phoebe, meanwhile, was trying to get the truth out of Jake.

"She give you a reason?" Brass asked.

Jake shook his head. "But I know it's because of Ava."

"She didn't know you two were dating?" Phoebe asked.

"No." Jake admitted. "She had this idea that we'd be together, I think. Then she showed up at the hospital, about a week after Bella fell out of her crib, and saw me and Ava in the cafeteria. She freaked out."

"You gotta help me out there cos the old brain's not so spry." Brass said folding his hands. "How do you get from a lover's quarrel to murder?"

Jake sighed. "Ava." He shook his head slowly. "She loved Bella like I did. Y'see, Ava can't have kids; some kinda accident when she was a kid. But with Bella…she lit up. That baby changed her. And when Juliet said I couldn't see her anymore…"

"Why didn't you file for visitation?" Phoebe asked.

"Are you kidding? And have everyone know I'd knocked up a chick I had a one-nighter with? Please." Jake shrugged. "Our way was working for us."

"Then what happened?" Brass asked Jake forcefully.

"Ava thought that Bella would be happier with us…that we could be her family…I didn't even know what she was going to do until she did it…" Jack sighed again. "We went to Juliet's…Marie wasn't meant to be there…but she was. Juliet said I could go see Bella so I left the three of them in the kitchen…I heard some crashes from the kitchen. I ran in there and Marie and Juliet were on the floor."

"Then what happened?" Brass pressed.

"Ava ran past me. I was just standing there…staring at them…then I heard another crash from the nursery. I ran back and Ava had taken Bella and taken off out the window." Jake continued. "I didn't know what to do so I just ran…I didn't have a clue where Ava and Bella were until a couple of days ago. Ava called me; told me they were at her place."

"Why didn't you turn her in?" Brass asked. "I mean; she kidnapped your daughter and killed her mother."

Jake was silent for a few moments. "I had my baby." He finally said. "There's no one I love more in the world then Bella."

"Be sure to tell her that before you go to jail." Brass said bitterly, getting up from the table. Phoebe followed him out of the room. Catherine was waiting for them.

"Hey; how'd it go?" Phoebe asked her.

"Ava caved." Catherine said. "Ten bucks says her lawyer pleads insanity. Said all she wanted was a baby and once she had Bella; she just panicked."

"What happens to Bella now?" Phoebe asked Brass.

"She's still at the hospital getting checked out." Brass told her. "But she'll be fine. Her grandfather's with her now; it was in Juliet's will that he take care of her."

Phoebe nodded; relieved that the baby would be okay. "What happens now?"

Catherine sighed. "Paperwork." She said begrudgingly.

**xxx**

When Phoebe got back to Nick's that night she was exhausted. She'd knocked twice on the door before she turned the handle and entered Nick's house.

"Hey!" He called happily from the couch where he was flipping channels.

"Urgh." Phoebe replied, dropping her bag and shrugging off her jacket as she made her way to the couch. She climbed across the seat and rested her head sleepily on Nick's shoulder.

Nick kissed her temple. "Long day?"

"Ah-huh." Phoebe grumbled, swinging her legs onto Nick's lap. Apparently she was so tired she'd taken to speaking like a cavewoman.

"Just think; you get to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again." Nick said with a laugh.

Phoebe made yet another noise and climbed off Nick. She slipped her hand into his and tried to pull him to his feet as she got up. She had no energy so he didn't budge.

"What are you trying to do?" Nick asked her as she shook his arm uselessly.

"I'm tired." She mumbled.

Nick chuckled and got to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Phoebe and kissed the top of her head. Phoebe sighed into his shoulder and then almost lost her stomach as Nick lifted her off her feet and carried her to his bed. He laid her on his bed and covered her with a blanket.

"Why are you so good to me?" Phoebe asked him. Nick smiled and smoothed her hair behind her ears. Phoebe closed her eyes and was asleep before she even realized it.

"Because I love you." Nick muttered under his breath. He kissed Phoebe again on the forehead and left her alone to sleep; wondering when he'd get the courage to say that to her face. And, hopefully, for her to say it back.


	49. Secrets

**SECRETS**

Stealing a moment alone at work was becoming very difficult for Nick and Phoebe; especially since she suspected that _others_ suspected something was going on between them. Catherine in particular seemed to have a mischievous twinkle in her eye anytime Phoebe mentioned Nick's name. Now four months into their relationship; the two of them were becoming more secure in their relationship. But with that security came a little overconfidence that had them teetering on the boundaries. For example, Phoebe would kiss Nick's cheek goodbye if they were alone in a room. Or he would wink at her when no one was looking. Phoebe's worry was that they were becoming a bit lax with hiding their relationship. But she was at the point where she didn't care if people knew. The problem with that was that she didn't know how her being with Nick would interfere with her job. She just knew Ecklie would have some protocol lecture to give them if he found out.

That evening, Phoebe had finished her case and was with Nick in the storage closet making out quite heavily. He had lifted her up onto a bench and her legs were firmly holding him close to her. She wasn't even sure how long they'd been there but Phoebe was happy either way. That was until they were interrupted.

"Oh my God!" Catherine's shocked, yet somewhat happy, cry came from the doorway. "I am so sorry." She turned around and covered her eyes. "I didn't know you guys were…um…_busy._" She chuckled lightly.

"We; ah…I was just leaving." Phoebe said hurriedly, the blood rushing to her cheeks as she removed her legs from around Nick's waist.

"Yeah, okay." Catherine said nodding. "Nick; Greg has our lab results."

"Be right there." Nick said as normal as possible.

"Take your time." Catherine said, turning back towards them. "By all means." She winked at the pair of them before heading out with a huge grin on her face.

"Maybe we can convince her it wasn't what it looked like." Nick offered meekly.

Phoebe gave him a withering look. "Nick; I had my hand in your pants; not so many ways to explain that."

Nick's face broke out in a smile. Then he laughed into Phoebe's shoulder. "It was bound to happen." He said.

"Hmm." Phoebe agreed uselessly, leaning in and kissing him lovingly on the mouth. "I really do have to go, though."

"I'll give you my keys." Nick reached for his pocket.

"No, I'll just come by when you finish. I get lonely if you're not there." Phoebe admitted. "I was gonna head home first. I haven't seen Finley in a few days; I don't want him to forget me."

"He's a cat; are you sure he realizes you're gone?" Nick asked jovially.

"Oh, he knows." Phoebe smiled, sliding off the counter. "Call me when you get outta here." She kissed him again.

Nick watched her leave and the second she disappeared from his view; he missed her. It had been awhile since he'd felt this way for a woman. But he decided just to take it in his stride; not obsess too much. So instead he went to meet Catherine in the lab. Greg had a pair of headphones on and was playing music so loud Nick could hear it clearly. Catherine was looking over a print out when Nick entered.

"What's he doin'?" Nick nodded towards Greg.

"Finishing a blood test; he asked not to be disturbed." Catherine chuckled. Then she turned to Nick with a wide smile. "So." She stated.

Nick couldn't help smiling. "What?" He tried to sound nonchalant; but he'd never been any good at that.

"How long?" Catherine asked.

Nick sighed. "Four months."

"Wow; longer then I thought." Catherine smiled. She nudged Nick gently. "That's great, Nicky."

"Yeah; it is. Thanks." Nick told her. "But Cath; we're trying to keep it quiet for now so-"

Catherine held up a hand. "Lips sealed; no problems."

"Thanks." Nick said gratefully.

Greg slid off his headphones. "Alright. _Now_ I'm ready."

**xxx**

Phoebe came back from her jog feeling energized. She assumed this was because rather then go jogging, she'd accidentally veered into the movie theatre beside the park and watched a romantic comedy she'd been dying to see. But she figured she'd run up the stairs to her apartment. Well, the stairs to the elevator to her apartment. And that had to count for something.

Entering her apartment, the first thing Phoebe noticed was that Finley didn't come to greet her. She'd expected this since she'd been staying at Nick's most nights of the week; Finley was jealous. Or lonely. Whatever it was; it could easily be fixed with food. Kicking off her shoes, Phoebe made her way into her kitchen, clicking the button on her answering machine as she headed to the fridge. She grabbed a bottle of water and waited to hear her messages. Apparently she had two but she didn't hear anything; as though the person who called had listened to the answering message and then left a silent message. Or perhaps her very cheap answering machine was screwing up again. Both very likely possibilities.

Phoebe glanced around her apartment and noticed how clean it was. _This is what happens when I don't live here;_ she said to herself, _the place gets cleaner. _Shaking her head, Phoebe head towards the bathroom. On her way, she noticed a fluffy black tail sticking out the bottom of one of her lounge chairs.

"Finley." Phoebe said happily, crouching onto the floor to look at him. "What's wrong with you?" Her cat eyes were round and big; it was the same look he got when he heard the doorbell; he was terrified of that sound. "Don't be scared; it's just me. I'm sorry I left you for so long." He still didn't move. If anything, he cuddled himself up tighter. "Fine; be that way." Phoebe got up on her feet and turned around. Then she gasped. She was standing face to face with a man she'd never seen before.

"Phoebe." He said with a bitter smile. "I-I was waiting for you to come home. You-You're late today."

"Who the hell are you?" Phoebe asked worriedly, realizing that in her stretchy pants and singlet she was almost helpless. Her spare gun was near the door. She tried to figure out a way to get to it quickly.

"I'm…I'm me." He said nodding.

Phoebe backed away from the stranger, fear filling her throat. The man came towards her so Phoebe turned and ran. She felt his arms grab her around the middle.

"No!" Phoebe screamed, kicking her legs wildly. "GET OFF ME!" She screamed at the top of her lungs but her mouth was soon covered by a moist cloth. Phoebe was forced to breathe in what she recognized as chloroform. She felt herself being lifted off her feet; but that was the last thing she remembered as she was carted out of her apartment.


	50. Old Friends

_**Thought I'd post one more to say Merry Christmas to you all! Thanks so much for sticking with Phoebe. You have no idea how nice it is to have so many people embrace a character I created. So this extra chapter is for you all. Thanks again! Have a great Christmas!**_

**OLD FRIENDS**

"Nick?" Grissom called from the doorway to the lab. Nick and Catherine were finished up with their case. "Can I see you for a moment?"

"Sure." Nick answered as he got up from the table.

They pair went back to Grissom's office where Gil offered Nick a seat. "What's going on?" Nick asked as he sat down.

"Nigel Crane is out of prison." Grissom said bluntly.

"What?" Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. Nigel Crane was the nutjob who had stalked Nick a couple of years before. He'd even lived in Nick's ceiling and video taped him as he went about his day. He even watched him sleep. Nigel had been sentenced to life in prison. "How the hell could that happen?"

"He was removed from the prison a couple of weeks ago; a psychiatrist claimed he was mentally unstable and they moved him to a psychiatric facility." Grissom said; worry evident in his voice. This man had killed a woman and had her pose as Nick's prom date because he wanted to be just like him; wanted Nick to be his best friend. He'd created this whole world of his own. And the fact that he was out was a massive danger to Nick.

"Oh God." Nick muttered.

"I called Brass; he'll have a uniform posted at your door twenty-four seven." Grissom told Nick firmly.

"Thanks." Nick said.

Nick went back to Catherine who was sitting with Warrick in the break room and told them the news. They were both immediately on edge; like Nick was.

"That's crazy." Warrick shook his head. "That guy killed a woman; tried to kill you. Insane my ass; he knew what he was doing." Warrick angrily got to his feet and tossed out his coffee cup. "I'm gonna go see Brass."

"Rick; its ok…" Nick started, but Warrick was already out the door.

"He's just worried." Catherine told Nick. "I gotta say; me too. How are you doing?"

"I'm ok." Nick nodded. "I'm gonna give Pheebs the heads up."

Catherine nodded and went to fill her coffee cup to give Nick some privacy. But as it turned out, he didn't need any. He hung up his phone a moment later. "She's not answering.

"You try her cell?" Catherine asked, spooning sugar into her coffee.

Nick nodded. "And her home phone; answering machine doesn't pick up." Nick pocketed his phone. "I keep telling her to get a new one."

"She has the night off; she's probably at a movie." Catherine said in a calm voice.

"Yeah; probably." Nick agreed; although he couldn't help feel a little nagging twinge in the back of his mind.

Three hours later, Nick was finished with work. He'd tried calling Phoebe twice more with no answer. Now her cell phone didn't even ring; it went straight to voicemail. She was always losing it and then the battery would die; but she knew he was going to call; she'd stay near a phone...wouldn't she? It was nearing midnight when Nick climbed into his car. _She's fallen asleep_, he told himself. _She's asleep; that's why she's not answering…but she's a light sleeper…_. Nick shifted his car into gear and headed towards Phoebe's house; just to ease his worried heart.

He pulled into his usual guest space and noticed Phoebe's SUV with the novelty Elvis hanging on the dashboard in her parking spot. So she was home. Nick locked his car and went into the building. He waved to the night doorman who he'd come to know quite well over the past four months.

"Phoebe in?" he asked him.

He nodded. "Saw her come back after a jog." He answered. "About four hours ago; that was."

"Thanks." Nick told him as he hit the Up button on the elevator. Traveling up to Phoebe's apartment made the worry ease from Nick's mind. The doorman had seen her; she was fine. Completely fine.

The elevator doors opened on Phoebe's level and Nick headed towards her door at the end of the hall.

It was ajar.

Something was wrong.

The worry returned to Nick's heart. Phoebe was pedantic about locked doors. She double checked all the time; even at Nick's. She needed to know doors were shut and locked. With everything they saw each day; thing that could've been prevented if people had taken home security more seriously; she didn't want to take any chances.

"Pheebs?" Nick called nervously from the doorway. When he didn't get a reply, he nudged the door open with the back of his hand. The scene sent his heart into a pit of fear.

A chair was knocked over.

Papers were strewn over the floor.

Phoebe was gone.

"Pheebs?!" Nick called uselessly. He ran through the apartment shouting her name. He checked her bedroom; empty. The kitchen; empty. Bathroom, living room, hall closet; all empty. "No, no, no." Nick felt tears in his eyes; Nigel. It had to be. He'd come back and taken her.

"What the hell is all this racket?" Mrs. Louis, Phoebe's elderly neighbour called from the doorway.

"Did you see Phoebe leave?" Nick asked her hurriedly.

"What?"

"DID YOU SEE PHOEBE LEAVE?!" Nick screamed.

"No; haven't seen her all night." Mrs. Louis answered, clutching her robe to her chest. "What's happened?"

Nick scanned the empty apartment; fear and shock taking over his body. "She's gone."


	51. Gone

**GONE**

"How could you not see her leave? That's your damn job!" Brass yelled at the night doorman. He was so angry he could barely keep from slapping sense into the man.

"I'm very sorry, sir." The guard said solemnly. "But she didn't come down."

"What about this man?" Brass pulled out a picture of Nigel Crane. "Do you know him?"

"That's the new electrician." The guard said. Then he looked up at Brass; the realization setting in. "He did this; didn't he? Oh god; what did I do?"

Brass didn't answer the man. He just walked back towards Grissom and Warrick. "It's Crane; He's got her." Brass said to them. "Guard said he's the electrician."

"Son of a bitch." Warrick muttered under his breath.

"We gotta find her soon and we gotta find her fast." Brass told the CSI's.

"We know; Jim." Grissom told him.

"Where's Nick?" Warrick asked.

"Downstairs. But I don't know how long we can hold him; he wants to help." Brass shook his head. Nick had admitted to everyone that he and Phoebe had been seeing each other; that was most likely the reason she had been targeted by Nigel. He wanted Nick to himself and Phoebe was in the way.

Brass left Warrick and Grissom to work in Phoebe's apartment. Grissom took the lead, carefully walking into the living room scanning everything around him. "She fought." Grissom surmised as he eyed the knocked down furniture. He hadn't expected Phoebe to go down quietly. Grissom headed into the kitchen and inspected the answering machine.

Warrick was still in the living room. He'd spotted an oily stain near the turned over chair. He suspected it was chloroform but took a sample to be sure. He then noticed a black, furry tail sticking out the bottom of the couch. "Gris; Pheebs has a cat, right?"

"Yes." Grissom confirmed. "She told me he was one of the only things she brought with her from Australia." He looked up at Warrick who pointed to the tail. Grissom nodded. "Leave him for now, but make sure he doesn't get away. I'm sure Nick will take care of him."

**xxx**

Downstairs, Nick paced in the front foyer. He'd already yelled at the night guard until his voice cracked for letting Nigel into the building. Now his mind was centred on one thing only; Phoebe. Where was she? Was he hurting her? Was she still alive? Why hadn't he insisted she go straight to his place? Why had he not driven her home? Why had he not finished earlier? He could've got to her in time.

Warrick came down the stairs a moment later with a terrified black and white cat in his arms as well as plenty of scratches. "This guy really didn't wanna leave." Warrick handed him to Nick. "Thought you might wanna take him."

"Yeah, sure." Nick said monotonously as he took the cat under his arm.

"Hey." Warrick said placing a hand on Nick's shoulder. "We'll get her back; don't even think anythin' else. _We'll get her back._"

Nick wished he felt as confident as Warrick sounded. He didn't; not even a little. Yes, Phoebe was a fighter. But Nigel was insane. He killed a woman as a 'gift' for Nick. He couldn't imagine what he'd do to someone Nick cared about.

**xxx**

Brass drove Nick back to his place that night since Nick refused to go willingly. There was a policeman guarding Nick's front door when he arrived and Brass said there would be one there around the clock until they found Nigel and Phoebe. Nick was still clutching Finley in his arm but the damn thing wouldn't stop meowing. Phoebe had told Nick that she used to own the cat's mother so she'd had Finley since birth and thus he was incredibly attached to her. Every time Nick was over at her apartment and the pair of them were on the couch together; Finley would meow until Phoebe picked him up.

Brass walked Nick to his door and told him he'd call him right away with news. Nick entered his house as Brass spoke to the officer at the door. Nick felt numb; empty. He'd always had this thought that should there be a crisis like this in his life; he'd be the hero. He'd be the one not sleeping and making sure everyone stayed on track. But now it was happening; Phoebe was missing. And he couldn't do anything.

Nick double checked all his doors and windows were locked and then he let Finley roam around where he wanted to go. Nick mindlessly got himself a beer; but didn't open it. He got out a frozen meal for dinner; but didn't cook it. Instead he went and sat in front of his blank laptop for a few minutes. Then he noticed his answering machine was blinking with one new message. Nick reached over and hit the button.

"_Hey_."

Phoebe. Nick immediately felt tears in his eyes as he heard her voice. The message had been received hours ago; about an hour after Phoebe left Nick at work. She'd rung him before she got home.

"_I'm dressed in running gear but I doubt very highly that I'll actually run. Do you think I should invest in a treadmill? I figure I can just park it in front of the TV since I spend all my off time there anyway...they should make treadmills with TV's already on them…ooh, I should invent that…anyway; main reason I rang was to let you know that I just pulled off the most _impressive_ reverse park you could dream about. One-handed, Nicky, one-handed! I think I can have a career as a very specific type of chauffeur. Call me later."_

Click_. "You have no new messages."_

By this time; Nick was in tears.

**xxx**

Phoebe awoke on a cold, tile floor. For some reason she thought maybe she fainted in the shower. Her head throbbed and her body felt wet; more weight to the shower theory. But as she moved her legs and lifted her head; she remembered what had happened. The stranger in her house; the man who knew her name.

"Good morning, Phoebe." Said a nervous voice in the corner.

Phoebe's vision was blurry; she couldn't see the stranger but she recognized the voice. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I hope you're not mad…I didn't think you'd come with me willingly." The man told her in an almost scared voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Nick's." he said. "In fact, ah…you can-you can call me Nick." He nodded. "Yes; I am Nick."

Phoebe was terrified; this man was obviously insane. "What do you want with me?"

"Like I-Like I said; I'm a friend of Nicks." The man continued. He got to his feet and started pacing skittishly. "And, ah, you-you and Nick…are together now." He shook his head. "That's not good. Not good."

Phoebe pushed herself back as far as she could until she hit a wall. She realized she was in a basement of some kind. There was very little light except for the moon outside. The floor was cold concrete and there was a musty smell in the air; like there wasn't a lot of airflow around.

"Nick, ah, Nick needs to see…" The man continued, talking more to himself then to Pheobe. "He needs to see that we're friends…we bonded…he doesn't need her; doesn't need the girl. She's in the way."

He seemed to have completely spaced out. Phoebe felt for her pockets and remembered she was wearing her jogging outfit. She never took her wallet with her, just some spare cash, and she just clipped her beeper and phone onto the hip of her pants. Both of which she'd taken off when she got home after the movie. She had nothing except the clothes she was wearing.

"In the way. You're IN THE WAY!!!" The psycho suddenly screeched in Phoebe's face. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to her feet. Phoebe was so lethargic she didn't have any energy to fight back. She was literally at his mercy.

"You are in the way." He spelled out every word with a ragged breath. Then he threw her back against the concrete wall.

Phoebe hit her head and slumped down to the floor. She knew it was bleeding but she didn't know how badly. She could hear 'Nick' puttering around. She heard the sound of metal clanging together; it sounded like chains to Phoebe. Moments later; her eyes still spotty from hitting her head, she felt a cloth cover her eyes as her captor tied it around her head. He grabbed her wrists and brandished some cuffs on her before chaining her to what felt like a metal pole.

"Not in the way anymore." The stranger muttered in a low, calmer voice. "Not in the way anymore."


	52. Bond

**BOND**

Grissom and Warrick headed back to the lab at about three-thirty that morning. News of Phoebe's abduction had already covered CSI and everyone was worried. When Warrick took his evidence to Greg; he could tell the young lab tech was clearly shaken. He was knocking things over; re-doing tests he'd just done and that well known Greg Sanders humor appeared to lay dormant behind his stony demeanor.

"How you doin', Greg?" Warrick asked as she entered.

"Fine." He replied. "Just fine." He turned and took Warrick's evidence out of his hands before he even asked for it. "I'll get this done a-sap, ok?"

Warrick sighed. "Greg; we're all worried about Pheebs, ok?" he leveled with him. "But right now we need to stay focused. Finding her is the lab's number one priority."

Greg nodded while looking at the floor.

"Besides; Nick'll have your ass if you skimp on his girlfriend's case." Warrick realized.

That snapped Greg's head up. "Girlfriend?" he paused. "Nick and Pheebs hooked it up? Really?" A smile crept upon Greg's face.

Warrick nodded. "Yeah. We gotta find her fast so we can make fun."

"You got it." Greg nodded purposefully; pushing aside everything he was doing and getting started on Warrick's evidence.

**xxx**

"Nick?" Sara called from his doorway. The policeman had let her by after a quick call to Brass. She'd just come off a double shift and had heard the news about Phoebe. Having always been close to Nick; she'd come over to talk and eat pizza. She entered the house and found Nick sitting on the couch staring at the turned off TV. "Hey; I brought pizza and beer." She said unloading her gifts onto his countertop. Nick didn't respond; she hadn't really expected him too. Sara wandered over to the couch and sat beside him. "Any news?"

Nick shook his head. "Brass is threatening jobs at the prison; asking why they let Nigel out when he's so obviously insane." Nick spoke in a defeated tone; no emotion in his voice. "They said he broke out when they were moving him from one facility to another. That was two weeks ago. Two weeks, Sara, he's been out there. I could've warned Phoebe."

"How the hell were you supposed to know he'd break out?" Sara asked him; annoyed that he was blaming himself for something completely out of his control.

"I've had two years to tell her about Nigel; I didn't." Nick admitted to Sara. Phoebe had been on vacation in Australia when Nigel had attacked Nick two years before. She'd flown back the moment she'd heard but by the time she arrived the case was solved and Nigel was locked away. Nick wished above all else that he'd taken the time to explain to her what Nigel had done; what a dangerous guy he was.

"Phoebe is strong, Nick. You know that better then anyone." Sara told him. "She'll get through this."

Nick didn't respond. Then a few moments later; he spoke. "He went after her because of me."

"What?"

"He was stalking _me_." Nick turned and looked at Sara for the first time since she'd arrived. "He killed that girl for _me_. He thought we had a 'bond', he thought we were friends. He killed that psychic guy because he 'got in the way'. And now he has Phoebe…" Nick couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. "If he thinks _strangers_ 'got in the way' what the hell is he gonna think of my girlfriend?"

Nick turned away from Sara again. She reached out and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She said quietly.

**xxx**

Brass, Warrick and Catherine all convened in Grissom's office later on that morning discussing the case. Grissom sat in his desk chair with his arms folded, trying to get his head around Nigel Crane.

"He stalked Nick before." Brass said. "So why go for Phoebe now?"

"He's enamored by Nick." Grissom answered. "Nick is like a God to him; he aspires to be just like him."

"So since Nick has Phoebe now Nigel wants Phoebe?" Catherine asked; not really believing it.

Grissom nodded once. "Perhaps."

"Nah; can't be. Hell; none of us knew those two were together until today." Warrick brought up. "How would this joker know?"

"Well; he likes to watch." Catherine reminded him. "And he knows how to do it without being spotted. Plus; he knows Nick's house. Maybe he went back there to see Nick and saw him with Phoebe."

"Crazy boy sees his Dream Date Nick with a woman; freaks out." Brass surmised.

"He's created a whole relationship between Nick and himself in his mind." Grissom said. "A world we're they are the closest of friends…Nigel may feel Phoebe stands to jeopardize that."

"Will he kill her?" Catherine asked the question she knew they were all thinking. And when it was answered with dead silence; she didn't take that as a positive sign.

"I don't think he will." Grissom finally answered. "Killing Phoebe would devastate Nick; Nigel must know that…otherwise he'd have killed her immediately."

"He just wants to take her outta the equation." Brass said; nodding along with Grissom's theory.

"Where do we even start looking?" Catherine asked; sounding more hopeless then she intended to.

"Warrick and I are waiting on the security video from Phoebe's apartment." Grissom spoke up. "We'll get Archie right on it."

Catherine nodded. Then a horrible thought of realization hit her. "What about her parents?"

"I called them." Brass spoke up. "They're coming in from Miami right now."

"How'd they react?" Catherine inquired.

Brass shrugged. "Just like us." He muttered.

**xxx**

When she woke up, Phoebe knew she'd been drugged. Her inner elbow of her left arm stung like when she got her flu shot and her whole body was lethargic. Her eyes were still covered and her hands bound. Her ears were her only unshackled sense so she used them as best she could. She couldn't tell the time of day; the cover over her eyes was too thick, but she was still cold; more truth to her theory she was in a basement. She didn't think the man who called himself 'Nick' was still there, although he may have been sleeping. She made some obvious movements; so if he was watching her he could see she was awake. But his creepy voice didn't enter Phoebe's eardrum. The uncomfortable thought popped into her head that he might just be sitting there; watching her. Or, if he was the same guy who'd been stalking Nick, that he had cameras on her. She realized the latter was more likely.

Phoebe had remembered a case from a couple of years before where Nick had been stalked. She was now acting under the assumption that this was the same man. She'd been in Australia on vacation at the time and when she'd returned it was all over; the guy was in prison and Nick was fine. But everything about this man reminded him of what little Phoebe knew about the man who stalked Nick. He acted like he and Nick knew each other, he was worried someone would get in the way of them being friends, he was creepy; it all fit. From memory Phoebe knew his name was Nigel something; but she wasn't confident in letting this on her captor. She was using all her training to stay alive. She kept quiet, she didn't struggle and she stayed calm. Although staying calm was proving almost impossible. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she wondered if Nigel, had he been there, could hear it.

Phoebe shuffled closer to the pole she was bound too and curled up into some form of ball to try and get some sleep. She managed to get her hands close to her face, but she didn't take off her blindfold. Her mind showed her images of Nigel leering at her when she removed the cloth or a bomb going off or something. She just kept still and kept quiet. She wanted to survive.

**xxx**

Sara left Nick's at sunrise to go home and get some sleep. Nick found himself wandering aimlessly around his apartment. Finley had taken refuge on his bed. It took him a few moments to realize the cat was sleeping on Phoebe's pillow. She insisted bringing one of her own to Nick's because she liked to cuddle it when she was sleeping. No matter how many jokes Nick made about the fact that she was more then welcome to cuddle _him_, she didn't want to give it up. She left it there if she was staying for a few days at a time. Nick felt the sudden urge to shove the cat off the pillow; to leave things as they were for when Phoebe came back. But he suppressed that feeling and left the animal alone. After all, Finley was missing Phoebe, too.

When there was a knock at Nick's door; he wondered who the hell would show up at six am. He assumed the police officers were changing over and just letting him know. He opened his front door. He was wrong. Phoebe's mother, Penny, and step-father, Jack, were standing on his doorstep.

Penny looked at Nick with tear-filled eyes. "Where the hell's my daughter?"


	53. Loss

**LOSS**

Nick didn't know what to say to Penny and Jack; he didn't think there was anything he could say to make them feel better. He sure as hell knew there was nothing anyone could say to him. He was relieved when Jack put his arms around his wife and held her close.

"Penny, it's not his fault…" Jack said softly. "May we come in, son?" he asked Nick.

Nick nodded and moved aside so they could enter. Nick normally got on well with Phoebe's parents. Penny was, of course, Australian like Phoebe, but Jack was a flesh and blood New Yorker who loved hockey and football as much as Nick did. The bulk of their conversations revolved around sport. Jack didn't have any children of his own; he'd been a swinging bachelor for almost sixty years until he met Penny a few years before. They'd been married in Vegas not long after they met and now resided in Miami.

Penny had loved Nick ever since she'd first met him just after Phoebe came to Vegas; she though he was perfect. So to see her so shattered caused Nick actual pain.

Jack sat Penny on the couch and then walked with Nick into the kitchen, out of earshot. "She hasn't said a word since Captain Bass called. Until her little greeting to you, that is." Jack smiled weakly.

Nick could really see Jack's age at that moment. Normally a man who looked younger then his many years on earth; this morning Jack looked tired. "I should've called you." Nick told him.

Jack shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Nick." He told him sincerely; putting a firm hand on his shoulder. He paused before he continued. "Jim told us that this man...the man who has Phoebe…he attacked you a few years ago."

Nick swallowed hard and nodded.

Jack nodded back. "This man...you could _never_ have known this was what he was going to do, Nick."

Nick felt tears in his eyes. He tried to hold them back. "I should never have let her go."

"Go where?" Jack asked, confused.

"She left work early. I should've made her wait for me." Nick clenched his jaw.

Jack looked like he might laugh. "We both know she wouldn't have listened to you. She would've laughed her head off and walked away."

Nick smiled; that was true.

"To worry about the past, Nick…it's useless." Jack continued wisely. "That's like me saying I should never have driven her to the airport so she could come to Vegas to start her new job. Or her mother saying they should never have left Australia. If this hadn't happened you wouldn't be giving a second thought to what you'd done before." Jack sighed. "All that matters is what we do now."

Nick shrugged as a tear fell from his eye. "I can't do anything."

Jack tilted his head, silently asking _'why?'_.

"It's like...it's like I'm numb, Jack." Nick admitted. "I can't do anything. I can't even think about where he might have taken her, I can't think about _anything_ that might help."

"You're in shock, son." Jack told him, placing his other hand on Nick's other shoulder to keep him steady. "It'll pass. Then you'll know what to do."

Nick wished he felt as confident as Jack sounded. Instead, he just nodded again.

"I'm going to unpack the car. We didn't know how long we'd be here so we just packed a few things." Jack told Nick. "I'll get us a hotel later today."

"No, no, you can stay here." Nick offered quickly.

"Thanks for the offer, son." Jack replied. Patting him on the back he then left the room.

Nick watched him leave and then caught sight of Penny sitting like a statue on the couch. She was staring at the blank TV with her hands in her lap and her back dead straight. Her face was frail; broken. The pain was so visible it hurt Nick's heart to look at her. He made her some tea and took it into the living room.

"I made you some tea." He told her, placing it on the coffee table. She didn't reply so Nick didn't push it. He just started back to the kitchen.

"Nick." She suddenly spoke up.

Nick turned back to her. "Yeah?"

Penny got up off the couch and turned to him, her eyes wet with sadness. "I don't blame you." She said firmly. "Not at all."

A wave of emotion ran over Nick. He swallowed and nodded his head insilent thanks. She nodded back and that was the end of it. As Nick turned back to the kitchen he was relieved that Penny and Jack didn't blame him; but that didn't stop his own feeling of guilt. The feelings that it _was_ his fault; no one could make those disappear.

**xxx**

Warrick and Catherine sat with Archie in the Audio Visual lab going over the security tapes that had just arrived at the building. All three worked in silence; the desire to find their teammate, and friend, the obvious goal. They had just been told the day-shift crew was also going to be working on Phoebe's case. She was top priority. Grissom and Greg had gone back to her apartment with some of the day-shifters to conduct interviews and scan the outer of the building in the daylight. Catherine planned to go and join them once she found something on the tapes.

"Ok; this is last night's footage." Archie said, breaking the silence as he used the mouse on his computer to sift through footage on the large, wall-sized screen in front of his workbench.

"Nick got to Phoebe's around eleven to find her gone." Warrick recalled. "Doorman told Nick he'd seen her come back about four hours before that so that puts Nigel there around seven."

"Got it." Archie adjusted the time on the video footage. He started from 6:45 and fast forwarded it through.

"There; there!" Catherine yelped when a pixilated image of Phoebe in running gear came onto the screen. "That's her coming home." She checked the time. "Seven fifteen."

"Nigel was already waiting for her." Warrick sighed. "Ok; we know he didn't take her right out the front door. Back entrance video?"

Archie nodded, pulling up another screen on the computer. "Just the one exit; just the one camera. It was dark so I had to enhance it." He adjusted the time once more and zoomed through the footage. Seeing as it was a back exit; no one seemed to use it that often. In fact, the only movement they CSI's saw was at 8:04.

"Archie; freeze it!" Catherine told him, leaning forwards. "Zoom and focus." She ordered him. There was a man on the screen with his back to the camera. But he was carrying something large in his arms. Archie quickly focused the picture and it became very clear. The man was carrying Phoebe in his arms.

"Oh, God." Warrick breathed.

"He probably took the fire escape to get her outta there." Catherine mused. "That time of night; not many people around." She sighed, blinking tears back from her eyes. "He couldn't carry her that long; he had to have a car or something."

Archie hit play and the footage kept running. The man seemed to walk sideways in a very odd fashion. "What is he doing?" Archie asked.

"He knows the camera's there." Warrick realized. "He's trying to make it so we can't ID him."

"He's getting into a car." Catherine cut in; her eyes not leaving the screen. It was mostly out of frame but she could make out Nigel lifting Phoebe into the back of a dark coloured car. "Archie, can you get a make and model?"

"Might take awhile." Archie admitted. "There's no light in that ally. But I'll give it my best."

"That's all I need." Catherine told him.

**xxx**

Grissom stepped slowly down the fire escape of Phoebe's apartment building. He had just gotten off the phone with Catherine; she'd let him know that this was the way Nigel had gotten Phoebe out of the building without being seen. Grissom had taken to searching for evidence on his own rather then involve the day shift crew. He'd left Greg to watch over their work as he'd gone out on his own.

Grissom descended the steps; his eyes carefully scanning every surface for something out of place; something askew. On the second floor; he found something. There was a long, thin scratch in the metal railing of the staircase. The equivalent of someone keying a car. But Grissom knew no key could have made this mark. He took a photo on his camera before inspecting it closer. It was a new mark. The blue paint had been chipped and its shavings were scattered on the stairs. Grissom took out his magnifying glass an looked deeper into the scratch. There were tiny metal particles inside it. He got out his cell phone and called Greg, telling him to bring down his kit immediately. Greg was there in a flash.

"What did ya find?" Greg asked, setting Grissom's kit down and getting him out a bindle and tweezers like he'd asked.

"Metal shavings." Grissom answered, collecting the evidence. "My theory is as Nigel came down these stairs...something on his person scratched the railing. A belt perhaps, or a weapon."

"I'll get it back to the lab, a-sap." Greg nodded.

"How are things upstairs?" Grissom asked him.

"Nothing new. None of the neighbour's remember seeing anything." Greg shook his head. "But one of them did find a footprint in Phoebe's apartment."

Grissom looked confused. "We missed it?"

"Well, it's not where you'd normally find a footprint." Greg told him. "It was in the middle of a broken picture frame; pressed into a photo of Nick and Phoebe."

Grissom sighed. "Can you imagine what Nigel felt when he saw that?"

Greg nodded.

"Why don't you check the ally?" Grissom told him. "Cath said that Nigel had a car; maybe you can get a tire tread; help Archie narrow down the make."

"Already there." Greg quickly descended the last couple of flights of stairs and headed out the back exit.

The light of day made things a lot clearer for Greg. The ally was narrow; not meant to be used by vehicles. So Greg surmised that any treads he did find would most likely be from Nigel's vehicle. Role playing for a moment, Greg pretended he was Nigel and stepped sideways; out of view of the camera, to pinpoint where the treads may be. He didn't have to look far There was disturbed gravel with obvious tire marks to the very left of the ally; right up against the fence. Greg took a couple of photos before he noticed something glinting in the ground. He bent down and picked up what seemed to be an earring; a very specific piece of jewelry he'd seen dangling from Phoebe's ears the day before.

**xxx**

"Hey Cath." Warrick called to her as she exited the break room.

"Yeah." Catherine turned, sipping her eighth cup of coffee as she did so.

"I pulled some DMV records on old Nigel." He told her, showing her a file. "He had a 94 La Barren registered under his name around the time he stalked Nick."

"Then he went to prison." Catherine told him.

Warrick nodded. "The car was impounded. I checked; it was crushed into a cube last summer."

"Well, he got a car from somewhere." Catherine rubbed her temple. "Greg sent me a message saying he found Phoebe's earring and some treads in the alley; he's bringing them back now." Catherine tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"You've been on for almost two whole days, Cath." Warrick asked; watching her with concern. "You need sleep. And food. You won't get far without both."

"I need to find Phoebe." Catherine told him. She started to walk away but Warrick grabbed her elbow and pulled her back.

"Cath; I got this." he told her. "I wanna find Pheebs as much as you do; believe me. But you _need_ to sleep." Catherine opened her mouth to protest. Warrick cut in before she could reply. "If you're not outta here in five minutes I'll report you to Ecklie."

Catherine looked taken aback. "Excuse me? I'm your superior!"

"I'm not asking as a CSI, Cath." Warrick told her. "I'm asking as a friend. How can you expect to find Pheebs when you can't stop yawning?"

Catherine looked down. "I'm not going home." She told him firmly. "I'll sleep in the break room. You wake me the minute you get something."

"I will." Warrick promised; grateful to see her turn back to the break room. He waited until he saw her physically lie down on the couch before he left her alone.

**xxx**

By the time Sara arrived at the lab it was almost lunchtime. She found Catherine sleeping in the lab so she didn't wake her. On her way to the lab she noticed Warrick and Greg sitting together at one of the computers.

"Hey." She greeted them as she came in. "Anything?" She asked even though she knew there had been no great leads.

"Grissom found some metal shavings in the fire escape of Phoebe's apartment." Greg told her. "We're running some comparisons."

"Hey; how's Nick?" Warrick asked. He hadn't been able to get a spare minute to go and see him and he didn't want to call.

"Tired." Sara told them. "Worried. Numb." She shoved Warrick off his chair. "Go get some sleep; I'll take your place."

"Nah; I'm good." Warrick waved her away.

"Warrick; go." Sara told him giving him a stern look.

"Fine." Warrick got to his feet. "Page me if you get something."

Sara sat in Warrick's vacated seat. "So what've we got?" she nodded at the computer screen in front of Greg.

"The metal shavings are from a high-class product; whatever it is." Greg told her.

"Any ideas?"

"I'm thinking hunting knife or belt buckle…or a badge." Greg said. Suddenly something occurred to him. "Maybe a police badge." He added.

"You think Nigel would copy Nick's badge?" Sara asked raising her eyebrows.

Greg shrugged. "He wants to be just like him, right?"

Sara nodded. "What can I do?"

"We found a footprint on a photo in Phoebe's apartment. Search is set up on that computer." Greg nodded to the monitor beside him.

Sara shifted seats. "A photo?" She pulled up the search and saw the picture of Nick and Phoebe together. Smiling. Hugging. "Oh."

"Yeah." Greg said. "Photo was on the floor. He must've knocked it over when he drugged Phoebe and stomped on it."

"Which means that he should have glass in his shoe; you can never get all of it." Sara realized, immediately starting the search.

**xxx**

When Catherine awoke; the sun was up and Sara was not-so-quietly making coffee. "Hey." Catherine mumbled, tiredly pushing herself up off the couch.

"Hey; I was just gonna wake you." Sara brought her over a cup of coffee.

Catherine knew Sara well enough to know that tone in her voice. "What did you find?"

"The shoe print on the photo was a size 11; Jefferson's workboots." Sara told Cath.

Catherine looked puzzled. "I thought Nigel was a size nine?"

Sara nodded despondently. "According to his prison records."

"So he didn't smash the picture." Catherine's heart dropped. "Which means he wasn't alone."


	54. Standard Procedure

**STANDARD PROCEDURE**

Catherine wound up back in the audio visual lab with Warrick and Archie ten minutes later. All of them were armed with extremely leaded coffee and the same surveillance footage from Phoebe's apartment. But this time; instead of looking at the video from the alley; they were looking at the video from the front entrance. There were only two ways out of Phoebe's apartment and the only people exiting the building from the back way were Nigel and Phoebe. So they were scanning the front entrance footage for anyone wearing similar shoes to the print they found in the photograph. So far, after searching an hours worth of footage, they hadn't found anyone.

"Maybe we should widen the search parameters." Archie suggested.

"Arch; we haven't seen anyone even remotely close to who we're looking for; just heels and slippers." Catherine told him; rubbing her temple.

"So maybe we're looking at this the wrong way." Warrick spoke up. "Maybe the guy didn't leave. What if he lives in Phoebe's apartment?"

**xxx**

_Nick clicked enter on the computer screen to print out his results. Well, technically they were Phoebe's results. He didn't regret using his break to help her out; not one bit. In the two years she'd worked in Vegas he'd felt he'd gotten to know her well enough that she wouldn't manipulate him into helping her. He also knew that she would do the same for him if he asked. Plus; he wanted to make her happy; where was the harm in that?_

"_Nicky; give me good news, man." Phoebe said pleadingly as she came into the lab._

_Nick proudly handed her the printout. "Blood tests show that DNA does _not_ match the father." Nick told her. "Brother did it; just like you thought."_

"_Son of a bitch, Nick." Phoebe muttered as she glanced over the results. Then she looked up at Nick. "You just solved my case." She grabbed his chin and kissed him firmly on the mouth. "Thank you." She patted his cheek and exited the lab; results in hand, leaving Nick with a stunned look on his face._

A sharp knock at his door awoke Nick from his peaceful dream. He realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch and vaguely remembered saying goodnight to Jack and Penny a few hours before. He checked his watch and realized it hadn't been that long ago. It was early afternoon but Nick hadn't been asleep more then two hours. He rubbed his hands over his face and got to his feet.

He thought of his dream as he went to answer the door, which was the first time Phoebe had kissed him. It had been two years ago when they were still just friends. Nick had a feeling Phoebe probably didn't even remember that day; but it had stuck in Nick's mind for two years and counting.

Checking his peephole before he opened it; Nick's heart leapt nervously as he saw Brass and Sara standing on his front step. He pulled open the door a little faster then he would've liked. "Jim? What happened? Did you find her?"

Brass shook his head. "Can we come in?" he asked.

Nick's heart dropped back down as he moved aside and let Jim and Sara in. He noticed Sara had her kit but didn't ask why. He folded his arms across his chest as he stood in front of his friends. "What's going on?"

"How you doing, Nick?" Brass asked.

"What's going on, Jim?" Nick asked again; more firmly this time.

Brass sighed. "Day shift crew found a footprint on a photo of you and Phoebe at her apartment." He said slowly.

"Nigel's?" Nick asked.

"Well, that's what I thought. But the print was bigger then his shoe size. Nigel's a nine, the print was an eleven." Sara told him sorrowfully.

"So…?" Nick wasn't sure where they were going with this.

"It's standard procedure in cases like this, Nick." Brass said holding up his hands. "We gotta go by the book. You were in that apartment."

Anger and astonishment rose in Nick's heart. "You think I'm a suspect?!" he yelled.

"Nick; your work profile says you're an 11, you were in the crime scene. This is just how it has to go." Brass told him.

Nick shook his head violently. "No."

"Nick; I know you didn't do this but if it was any other case-"

"It's not any other case!" Nick cut in. "This is Phoebe! She's…you can't…" he didn't know how to finish his sentence.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Jack stormed out of the spare bedroom looking tired and confused. He recognized Brass and Sara. "What are you doing here? Have you found my girl?"

"They wanna take my shoe prints." Nick told Jack while staring menacingly at Brass. The more reasonable side of his brain told him that his friends were just doing there job; they didn't really think of him as a suspect. But the side of his brain that had taken of Nick's body was condeming his colleagues for even having thought he had anything to do with Phoebe's kidnapping.

"What? That's insane!" Jack snapped at Jim as he came to Nick's side. "This boy loves my daughter; how could you think he had anything to do with it?"

"Sir; calm down." Brass told him. "We all wanna find Phoebe but I was just telling Nick; this has to be done by the book or we won't get anywhere."

"It's a formality, Nick." Sara told her friend. "You know that. I'll be done as quick as I can."

Nick relented and nodded his head. It was just easier to agree at this point.

**xxx**

"Ok, so Phoebe's earring definitely puts her in that ally." Greg told Grissom as they walked towards the lab. "Like the footage of Nigel hauling her outta there wasn't enough."

"What about the metal shavings?" Grissom asked.

"My theory panned out; they were from a police badge." Greg opened the file he was carrying and showed his results to Grissom. "And we lucked out; there was trihexamine in the metal shavings."

"They stopped using that in police badges years ago." Grissom told Greg.

Greg nodded. "Found to cause skin discoloration; I know. But that means that Nigel didn't get a knock off, he got an old officers police badge. Probably from a garage sale or police auction or something."

Grissom considered this. "Any luck on the car?"

"Well, Archie's 99 sure its an SUV; dark colour. Nothing concrete yet." Greg pulled out a still photo he'd received from Archie barely five minutes ago. "But he did get this." He pointed to an enhanced sticker on the back of the car.

Grissom squinted through his glasses to read the sticked. "Vegas Rentals." He read.

"Car rental company." Greg informed him. "Sent a picture of Nigel along with Detective Vega and Warrick to check it out.

"Nice, Greg." Grissom smiled. "Very nice."

**xxx**

Warrick and Detective Vega pulled up to Vegas Rentals at about four in the afternoon. After barely two hours sleep; Warrick was groggy but determined to chase this lead down. He was armed with a warrant to search the company's records and the photo of Nigel to show around. Vega flashed his badge to a few salesmen who directed them to the office of Fred Carrington; owner and manager of Vegas Rentals.

After a quick briefing of why they were there, Warrick handed the photo to Fred. "This is the man we're looking for. He rented a dark car from you; possibly an SUV, sometime in the last week."

"Oh…yeah." Fred nodded. "Yeah; I remember him. Bob and I served him; he was giving Davy a hard time." Fred nodded to a young salesman outside who was talking with prospective customers. "Bob's been here awhile now."

"Hard time?" Vega asked.

"Well, he wasn't rude or anything, just very specific in what he wanted." Fred started looking through a filing cabinet under his desk. "Dark green SUV."

"Did he appear agitated to you?" Vega asked.

"Actually, yeah. Now that you mention it." Fred nodded. "He didn't…didn't seem quite right. Kept saying 'dark green SUV; just like his. Just like his.'" The man shrugged as he reappeared from underneath his desk. " I asked him who he was talking about but he just ignored me. Rented him a car and sent him on his way." He handed the papers he'd retrieved to Vega who handed them to Warrick. "I have three SUV's, all dark green. Got two left; no one really likes renting 'em."

"Did he say anything about why he needed the car?" Vega continued.

"Well; its part of our policy to ask as many questions as we can before we rent a car to people." Fred told him. "We found way to many of our cars sold for parts; y'know? But this guy…he just said it was for a friend. He wanted his friend to see."

"Sir, forgive me for saying, but if you saw this guy was not all there; why would you rent him a $25000 vehicle?" Warrick asked.

"Mr Brown; I'll level with you. Business has been slow this year. I mean, including this guy, I've rented out five vehicles this month. Five! For a whole month!" Fred shook his head. "The SUV is pretty much the most expensive one we rent out. I'm behind in bills, gotta three kids to send to college and grand-baby on the way. I needed the cash."

"How did he pay?" Warrick asked.

"Cash." Fred answered immediately. "I remember 'cos it was all in fifties; the whole deposit."

"He say when he'd return the car?" Warrick asked as he made some notes.

"He rented it for two weeks." Fred told them. "Seemed like he was really eager to get somewhere though."

"Any chance we can speak to Bob?" Vega asked.

"Yeah; you bet. He's in the lunch room; taking a break." Fred pointed them to a small room behind them.

"Thank you, sir." Detective Vega told Fred as he and Warrick headed to talk to Bob.

They found Bob Giles drinking a can of coke and watching a soap on TV. He was wearing dirty jeans and a faded white shirt and had his dark boots up on the desk beside him. He didn't look up at Warrick and Vega when they entered.

"Bob Giles?" Vega asked him.

"Whose askin'?" He still didn't look at them.

"I'm Detective Vega with LVPD; this is Warrick Brown; CSI. We wanna talk to you about a customer you served a couple of days ago; Nigel Crane?" Vega told the man.

"Never heard of him." Bob answered.

"Well, you're boss told us you served him personally." Warrick said as he showed Bob the picture. "Surely you remember him a little bit?"

Bob sighed and snatched the picture out of Warrick's hand. He glanced at it and handed it back. "Yeah; I rented him a car, so what?"

"He's an escaped criminal." Vega told him as Warrick walked around to stand between Bob and the TV.

"You sayin' he took off with our car?" Bob asked as Warrick crossed his view. "Hey; do you mind, buddy? I'm watchin' that!"

Warrick eyed the soles of Bob's boots. "This is some nice footwear, _buddy_." He told him. "What are you, a ten?"

"Eleven." Bob replied proudly.

"They Jefferson's?" Warrick nodded at the boots.

"Hell yeah; they are." Bob answered again. "Why?"

"Just noticed you have a lotta glass in them." Warrick glared at the man. It was glass from the photo frame in Phoebe's apartment; Warrick knew it was. This man had something to do with Phoebe's abduction.


	55. The Cost

**THE COST**

When Nick heard they had a new suspect in Phoebe's abduction, he disregarded everyone's objections and went to the lab; he wanted to see the man who had contributed to his girlfriend's disappearance. He walked directly to Brass's office when he arrived at the police station, unaware of anyone who was around him. That was until Warrick stood directly in front of his path.

"Nick; you shouldn't be here, man." Warrick said as he halted Nick in his step.

"Where is the guy?" Nick asked.

"Brass is in with him now." Warrick told him. "Let me take you home, man, you-"

"What did he say?" Nick asked, worry and fury rising in his throat. "He knows where she is; doesn't he? He helped Nigel take her."

"We don't know anything for sure yet, Nick." Warrick had to physically hold Nick back and away from the interview rooms. "Let's go get a drink or something."

"No; I wanna talk to him." Nick said firmly.

"No; can't happen, man, you know that." Warrick told his friend. "Just let Brass do his job-"

"His job isn't getting us anywhere!" Nick snapped. "Phoebe's still gone! And this guy knows where she is!" Nick shoved Warrick out of the way and stormed for the only closed interview room door. He opened it and walked right in; staring with malice at the balding, sweating man in front of Brass.

"Where is she?!" Nick screamed.

"Nick; get outta here!" Brass yelled back, jumping to his feet.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Nick lunged for Bob and tackled him out of his chair. "You know where she is! Tell me!! Where is she?! Where did he take her?!"

"Get this guy off'a me!" Bob was yelling between Nick's attacks.

Warrick and Brass both had to use all their strength to pull Nick off Bob. "Cool off." Brass snapped at Nick as he helped Warrick shove him back out the door. Warrick, still gripping Nick tightly, took him down the hall.

"Who the hell was that?" Bob asked as he pulled himself back up onto his chair.

"That." Brass yanked out his own chair and sat back down. "Is just _one_ of the guys whose gonna kill you if you don't start talking. Now."

**xxx**

Warrick took Nick out to his own car and tried to get some sense into him. "I know you're hurting, man, I do. But you can't attack our only lead to Phoebe; he's all we got right now."

"He knows where she is, Warrick, he knows!" Nick yelled, pacing angrily in front of his friend.

"I think so, too!" Warrick said back. "So let Brass pin this on him."

Nick put his hands on his hips and shook his head worriedly.

Warrick stepped closer to his friend. "Ok?"

"Yeah; ok." Nick agreed.

**xxx**

Phoebe was hungry, thirsty and dying to go the bathroom when she woke up again. She hadn't been moved at all; she was still tied to the pole, but she was getting colder. The air had wetness to it; more weight to her theory she was in a dank basement somewhere. She hadn't heard from Nigel in a few hours or so but she never put her guard down; she knew he was out there watching her.

Then all of a sudden, someone came barging into the room. "No!" Nigel's voice shouted angrily.

Phoebe tensed as she heard him quickly hurry over to her. She yelped a little as he grabbed her wrists tightly.

"He's not answering!" Nigel yelled.

Phoebe didn't think he was yelling at her; it sounded more like he was just venting and she happened to be his punching bag at that moment.

"This is your fault!" Nigel yelled.

_Ok, may__be__ I was wrong…_Phoebe thought to herself. "What?" Phoebe asked; her voice shaking.

"They found him because of you; your people!" Nigel yelled.

"Who?!" Phoebe screamed; frightened.

"You know who!" Nigel smacked her hard across the face.

Phoebe tasted blood in her mouth but she was bound; she couldn't fight back. "I don't know who you're talking about!"

"You should've left Nick alone!" Nigel yelled, smacking her again.

Phoebe could do nothing but sit there as Nigel whelped on her repeatedly. She felt her hands be cut loose with a sharp knife or object, Nigel didn't seem to care that he was cutting in Phoebe's skin as he released her. As soon as she was free; Nigel kneed her in the neck and she toppled to the ground.

"It's your fault!" Nigel yelled.

Phoebe could feel Nigel's attacks but something in her brain clicked on and she no longer felt the pain. She felt her body lift as Nigel picked her up. He carried her for a few moments before dropping her in a container of some sort. From the shape of her body in the container Phoebe knew it was a bathtub. She couldn't hear anything anymore; just a soft buzzing noise. She felt a cool wave of liquid at her toes and it took her a few moments to realize that it was water. Nigel had turned on the tap.

**xxx**

"The guy offered me six grand cash." Bob was saying to Brass in the interrogation room at LVPD. "I dunno if you know this but work has been slow lately. I get no commission; my family gets no food."

"You're breaking my heart." Brass replied bitterly. "Ya still haven't told me why you were at Phoebe's apartment."

"Nigel said he needed a hand to move some stuff." Bob sighed. "Offered me three grand more. I'm no idiot."

"Of course you're not." Brass simpered.

"I didn't know that's what was gonna go down; I was waiting outside." Bob continued. "Next thing I hear there's some girl screaming and Nigel's dragging her out of her apartment. She was already out of it; unconscious, y'know?"

Catherine, who Brass had called in ten minutes before to show the evidence, pulled out a photo that Archie had printed for her. It was from the video footage from the front entrance of Phoebe's apartment building. Together, Warrick, Archie and herself had gone back over all the footage around the time of Phoebe's abduction and looked for their new suspect.

"We have video surveillance that shows you leaving the apartment block five minutes before Nigel left with Phoebe." Catherine told him; showing him the picture.

"You didn't call the police?" Brass asked.

"Look; I knew whatever he was doing was illegal so I figured the cash he gave me…well, it mustn't a'been all that clean either, y'know? And I needed it."

"So you took the cash and kept quiet." Brass shook his head. "Nobel."

"I ain't proud of it." Bob told them.

"Where would he take her?" Brass asked firmly, his knuckles instinctively tightening.

Bob sighed. "Look; I don't know the guy that well, alright?"

Brass slammed an open hand down on the table. "One of my friends is missing and you're the only lead we have! You better tell me what I wanna hear, Bobby, and you better do it quick!"

"Look! I don't know where she is!" Bob yelled. "When I asked him where he was going with the car all he said was "Grandma would like Nick." The guy sounded crazy!"

"That's ironic." Brass retorted.

**xxx**

Catherine left the interview room only seconds later and immediately called Grissom at the lab. "Gil; get Greg to do a search on any properties owned by Nigel Crane's grandparents."

"All his family is dead, Catherine." Grissom answered her.

"I know; do it anyway." She told him. Then she told him what Bob had said about Nigel in the interrogation. When she was done she waited anxiously for Grissom's response.

"I'll do it right now." He finally answered. Then he hung up.

**xxx**

Phoebe could feel the water rising around her slowly. It was completely under her back but hadn't reached her hips yet. She could feel something warm trickling down her neck and knew that it was blood. She was dizzy and tired; all she wanted to do was sleep. Her energy was seeping away slowly; she wondered if she was dying. Suddenly, thoughts of Nick entered her mind. His smile; the sound of his laugh, his calming voice…all things she was desperate for right now. She thought of her mother and Jack; her family. They were all she had. She needed them.

Phoebe didn't know where Nigel was; she wondered if he'd taken off now that she was effectively out of the picture. Was he going after Nick again? Did her friends know he was the one who had her? Did they even know he was out of jail? Would they ever find her? All of these thoughts suddenly entered Phoebe's mind. But her brain was shutting off; telling her to sleep. And it was getting harder and harder not to listen…

**xxx**

Warrick was returning to the lab from dropping Nick home when he saw Grissom, Sara and Greg all running out of the building's front door. "What's going on?" Warrick asked as he caught up to them.

"Nigel Crane's deceased grandmother used to live in the dessert out of Henderson." Grissom told Warrick. "She died six years ago; the house was abandoned."

"Bob Giles, the guy who helped Nigel, said that Nigel spoke about the house; saying Nick would like it." Sara added.

"You think that's where she is?" Warrick asked.

"I do." Greg told him hopefully.

"Brass just called; he's almost there." Grissom added.

**xxx**

Brass sped his car along the deserted highway just out of Henderson. Six police cars with their sirens wailing followed close behind. Brass had a bad feeling about this place; a bad feeling that told him this is where he'd find Phoebe; dead or alive. He screeched his car to a halt out the front of Grandma Crane's residence; a rundown old barn with a beat up truck out the front. Next to this ancient truck was a shiny, new, dark green SUV. Nigel was here.

Brass took out his weapon as he headed for the front exit. He motioned to the officers who had just arrived to cover all the possible exit points and keep on the look-out for anyone around. Brass kicked down the front door and stormed into the house. He didn't see anyone immediately in front of him but he kept his gun at the ready anyway.

"Las Vegas police!" He yelled. "Show yourself!"

"I remember you." A quiet voice said.

Brass swung around and saw Nigel Crane sitting in a dining chair facing towards a turned-off TV. He didn't look at Brass when he came in; but he spoke to him as if he were sitting before him.

"You were there last time." Nigel continued. "You stopped me from killing Nick."

"Where's Phoebe?" Brass asked, keeping his gun aimed at Nigel's head.

"It's good to see you again, Detective." Nigel said in a quiet voice.

"Where is she, asshole?!" Brass yelled.

"It was good to see you." Nigel suddenly jumped up and aimed a pistol he was concealing at Jim.

Brass fired three shots in succession into Nigel's chest before the man could even pull the trigger. The criminal fell to the floor in a heap as two police officers ran inside.

"Jim?" Detective Vega asked him.

"She's here somewhere; get your men to look everywhere!" Brass yelled as he turned and ran for the stairs down to the basement.

"Yes, sir." Vega asked. Then he started barking orders to every policeman he could see.

Jim ran down the basement with his gun still cocked. "Phoebe?" He called. "It's Jim. Phoebe!" He hadn't really expected her to answer; Nigel had killed before and could do it again; no questions asked.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jim saw a red puddle on the ground in the corner beside a pole with some chains on it. The blood looked fresh. "Phoebe!" he hollered. Then he noticed the blood trail at his feet. There were a few scattered drops leading to a back room. Jim followed them quickly; they led him to a bathroom. There was red tinged water all over the floor and the sound off the overflowing bath reminded Jim of a pleasant waterfall. But what he saw made him feel violently ill.

Phoebe was floating in the bathtub.

"NO!" Brass holstered his gun and hurried for her. He grabbed his radio and contacted Vega. "Vega; I've got her! She's downstairs. Send medical; now!" Tossing his radio aside, Jim reached into the overflowing tub and pulled Phoebe's limp, bloodied and bruised body out of the water. Her skin was shock white and she had many cuts to her forehead. "Phoebe?!" Jim felt for a pulse; she didn't have one. "Dammit, no!" Jim rolled her onto her back and started giving her CPR. "Come on; come on." He pressed into her chest firmly and breathed air into her mouth. "Please, come on." Jim realized he had tears running down his face. "Come on, Pheebs…" He muttered in a small voice as he tried to suck his tears back. "Please; come on!" He pressed even harder into Phoebe's chest.

Phoebe's eyes flew open as a large amount of water shot out of her mouth and all over the front of her body.

"That's it; that's it!" Jim cried happily. "Atta' girl." She took in ragged breaths and was coughing non-stop; but she was alive. He picked her up under her shoulders and held her close to his chest. "You're ok; you're safe now." He told her soothingly as he held her. "We got you." He felt her grip his arms tightly. "We got you."


	56. Perserverance

**PERSEVERANCE**

Phoebe didn't remember much as she was led on a stretcher out of Nigel's home. She couldn't see any further then what was directly in front of her eyes. She knew she was holding someone's hand but she didn't know whose. As she felt the cool air reach her skin she knew she was finally outside in the fresh air. She saw Grissom's face appear in front of her. Then Catherine's. Phoebe had a tube in her throat so she couldn't speak. Now that she was more conscious; she felt the pain of all her injuries but, thanks to a lot of morphine, that pain was dwindling. Soon she was staring at the roof of an ambulance. Whoever was holding her hand sat next to her while Grissom and Catherine climbed into the van after the paramedics. Phoebe managed to turn her head slightly to see that she was gripping Brass's hand. She squeezed it once, a silent thank you, before closing her eyes and finally falling asleep.

**xxx**

Nick, Penny and Jack had been given a police escort from his home so Nick sped as fast as he could to the hospital. He'd been talking with Jack when he'd got the call that Brass had found and killed Nigel and that Phoebe was alive and on her way to Clark County General Hospital.

Slamming his door shut as he ran for the emergency entrance, Nick bypassed the front desk. Brass had told him where Phoebe would be. He took the stairs up to the second floor and ran like the wind towards the end of the hall where a Brass, Greg, Warrick, Catherine and Sara were congregated. Brass broke away from the others as he saw Nick coming.

"Where is she?!" Nick yelled.

"She's in with the doctor now; she's unconscious." Jim told Nick.

"Is she ok? What happened? Did she say anything?" Nick asked very quickly, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

"Nothing; she was _unconscious_. Nick, she didn't have a pulse. She wasn't breathing. I had to use CPR to bring her back." Brass placed a comforting hand on Nick's shoulder. "I don't know how long she was out of it."

"Oh, God." Nick covered his mouth with his hand. "I wanna see her."

"The doctor said-" Warrick started.

"No; I wanna see her now!" Nick snapped as a doctor came out of Phoebe's room.

"Not like that, you're not." The doctor said.

"Is she ok?" Catherine asked as the others came over to listen.

"She's been through hell. I gave her something to help her sleep." The doctor replied. "Her lungs are weak from the water she swallowed; her skull is badly bruised and many of her cuts are infected."

"Please, can I see her?" Nick asked; his desperation obvious in his voice.

The doctor looked at Brass who nodded in reply. "One at a time." She agreed.

Nick didn't know what to expect as he entered Phoebe's room. At first he didn't think he was in the right place; the broken body before him couldn't possibly be Phoebe. But the closer he got to her; he knew that it was. She had Phoebe's hands, Phoebe's lips, Phoebe's childhood scar across her eyebrow; it was her. Tears prickled Nick's eyes as he reached out and took her hand. She was warm.

"Hi, honey." He said softly as he pulled a chair up close to her bed. He didn't let go of her hand; he _wasn__'__t_ going to let go of her hand. "It's me; I'm here."

Over the next twenty-four hours; Nick only moved three times. Twice to go to the bathroom and once to let Jack and Penny have some time with Phoebe. During their visit he'd gone to the cafeteria with Warrick and Sara. Apparently, unbeknownst to Nick, the CSI's had worked out a schedule so that at least one of them could be with Nick and Phoebe at all times. A lot of the day shift crew stopped by with flowers. Even Ecklie made an appearance. His visit didn't come without its baggage; he pulled Nick aside and told him that when Phoebe was better he needed to talk to the both of them about their 'secret relationship' and how it would affect their work. But at that moment; Nick couldn't have cared less.

In the early hours of the next morning; much later after visiting hours had finished, a nurse came into Phoebe's room. Nick was asleep on a chair by Phoebe's bed, still holding her hand, but he woke up when the nurse loudly cleared her throat.

"Visiting hours were over at nine." She said bitterly.

"I know; but I just-" Nick started.

"And I see Ms. Parker has exactly...no visitors." The nurse's stern face broke into a warm smile. "Don't tell anyone I'm nice." She smiled again and left them alone.

Nick smiled to himself. Then he felt someone squeeze his hand. It took him a moment to realize that the only person holding said hand was Phoebe. He looked up at her and saw her head moving ever so slightly. "Pheebs?" He whispered hopefully, sliding his chair closer to her bed so his face was only a few inches from her own. "Phoebe; it's me. It's Nick." He told her softly.

Phoebe's eyes could not have felt heavier. But she managed to open them. Nick's voice was very calming to her since she had no idea where she was. "Nick."

"Hey, baby." He said happily; tears appearing in his eyes again.

"Thanks for saving me." She managed to say weakly.

Nick grinned through his tears. "You're welcome; honey."

Hearing Nick's voice, seeing his face; it was all too much for Phoebe. She started to cry. "I'm so sorry I didn't go to your place like you asked me to."

"Nah, nah; don't even think about that, ok?" Nick shushed her as she spoke. He reached out and stroked her head softly. "This isn't your fault. He would've found you wherever you were."

A thought occurred to Phoebe. "Where is he now?"

"He's gone. For good." Nick told her. "Brass shot him down."

Phoebe nodded and gripped Nick's hand again. It was strange that even though she was incredibly drugged and in immense pain, at that moment she didn't want to be anywhere else.

"Pheebs?" Nick spoke up shakily. He looked into her eyes; he wasn't afraid anymore. "I love you." He told her.

Phoebe felt a lump in her throat as new tears formed in her eyes. "I love you, too." She replied.

**xxx**

Over the next few days, Phoebe was subjected to hugs from people at work she barely knew, flowers that tended to die within a day and a dull conversation with Hodges about how when he'd been hospital as a baby they were convinced he was going to die and the fact that he lived was a 'bone fide miracle.'

Nick stayed with Phoebe for as long as he could. It depended what nurse worked the night shift as to whether he could stay in her room past visiting hours or not but even so; he was there when she woke up every morning. Every now and again he would leave her alone with Jack or Penny.

This morning; she was having breakfast with Jack while Nick went to talk to her doctor. Jack insisted on bringing Phoebe 'real food' and had picked up take-out on his way in and smuggled it under his coat.

"When can I go home?" Phoebe asked him. She felt a lot stronger now. She could sit up in bed, walk the short distance to her bathroom and eat proper food rather being fed fluid through a drip in her arm. Her injuries were a lot better. The doctors were mostly worried about her lungs; which was why she was subjected to daily tests and scans to see if they were getting back to normal. So far, it was slow and steady but things were looking good.

"Soon; I hope." Jack replied as he dove into his breakfast burger. "Your mother won't stand it for much longer."

Phoebe smiled. Penny was coming in that afternoon. She had told Phoebe she was spending the morning moving her and Jack out of Nick's house and into a hotel room. No matter how much Nick protested she claimed she didn't want to be a burden.

"Sweetheart; all of this…everything that's happened…it's got me thinking." Jack started slowly.

"About what?" Phoebe asked.

"When I die-"

"Oh, Jack, please don't-" Phoebe stopped him.

"When I die," He said again more firmly. "I think I'd like to be buried at sea."

Phoebe hadn't been expecting that. "What?" she asked.

He smiled. "I wanna be buried at sea; it looks like fun."

Phoebe crinkled her brow. "Why the sea?"

Jack sighed. "People always think they know me. Jack Stevens; so predictable. Maybe when I'm gone they'll say "Jack Stevens; buried at sea? Huh."

Phoebe laughed lightly and shook her head. "I don't want to think about that."

Jack smiled warmly and patted her hand. "Don't worry sweetheart; I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time."

**xxx**

Nick found Phoebe's new doctor, Dr. Logan, heading towards Phoebe's room. He stopped her halfway. Phoebe was in there with Jack and he was just giving them some time alone. Besides, he wanted to talk to the doctor by himself first.

"Dr. Logan." He greeted her.

"Hello, Nick." She smiled at him. "How can I help you?"

"I really would like to take her home." Nick told her. Truth was he'd been asking her the same question every day for almost two weeks now.

Dr. Logan sighed. "Nick; I've been meaning to talk to you about her living situation. Mentally; there is no way I can release her and have her go back to the apartment where she was attacked."

"Of course not." Nick said immediately. He'd given this a lot of thought. "She can stay with me; I'll take care of her."

The doctor smiled. "No offence, Mr. Stokes, but my brother is a CSI in Chicago and I know the kind of hours he works; he's lucky if he gets to sleep in his own bed."

"That won't be a problem." Nick assured her.

"Be that as it may, I've already spoken to her parents." Dr. Logan continued. "And they suggested taking her back to Miami with them until she recuperates."

"What?!" Nick exclaimed a little too loudly.

"I agree it is probably the safest option for her." She gave Nick a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted to hear." With that she turned and entered Phoebe's room.

Nick sat in one of the plastic chairs beside Phoebe's door and put his chin in his hands. _Take Phoebe away?_ He couldn't really comprehend it. He'd just gotten her back; he wasn't going to let her go again.

"Doctor's have way too much power." Jack muttered as he exited Phoebe's room. He spotted Nick. "Oh, hi, son. Why are you sitting out here alone?"

Nick stood up. "Are you taking Phoebe back to Miami?" he asked.

Jack's smile turned into a guilty frown. "Damn doctors. Penny wanted to tell you herself."

"You can't take her." Nick shook his head.

"Nick; she needs someone to be there _all the time_ while she gets better." Jack tried to explain. "Her mother and I-"

"I can take care of her." Nick cut in firmly. "And more importantly; I _want_ to take care of her."

"I know you do, son." Jack nodded.

"You can't...she lives here. Her life is here." Nick shook his head. "There's no way she'll go for this."

Jack sighed. "She already has."


	57. We Can

**WE CAN**

Jack left to get some coffee so Nick waited for Dr. Logan to finish Phoebe's exam before he went in to talk to her. She was sitting up in bed and reading a magazine; she looked so normal it was hard to believe she'd almost died two weeks before.

"Hey." She smiled at Nick when she heard him enter. Then she saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"You're leaving?" Nick asked her; trying to keep his voice level. He was so mad that she hadn't talked to him about it first.

Phoebe's smile faded quickly. "_I_ wanted to tell you..."

"Tell me what?" Nick's voice rose. "That you're leaving your whole life here? Your job, your friends…me?"

"It's not like that." Phoebe couldn't seem to stop the tears forming in her eyes. "I have nowhere to live, Nick. And the damn doctor says I need to be friggin' monitored for like two months before she'll even consider letting me go back to work."

"You can stay with me." Nick said simply.

Phoebe shook her head. "No."

"Why not?" Nick folded his arms.

"Because, Nick, we've been dating for barely five months." She told him. "People don't move in together after five months."

"It's not 'moving in'." Nick assured her. "I'll be taking care of you." When she didn't reply Nick took this as a good sign and continued. "Look; Pheebs…I love you, alright? And I _can_ look after you." She still had no protests. "You practically live with me anyway."

"It's not the same as that." Phoebe spoke softly. "I always had the option of going home. If I stay with you then...then I'll be _staying with you._ I don't know if we're ready for that much 'us time'."

"So just stay for the two months." Nick suggested. "Just stay until you can get another place."

Phoebe sighed and shook her head. "I-I dunno, Nick."

Nick walked over and sat on her bed. "Please; just stay here." He begged as he took her hand. "Stay with me."

Phoebe thought about it. She thought of everything that could go wrong with this plan. They could into a massive fight and be stuck with each other...that was pretty much the only worry Phoebe had. Truth was, they didn't fight that much. And all the fights they did have tended to end with them laughing anyway. And if she _did_ stay she could be with Nick, her friends…it was definitely the more attractive option.

She looked up at Nick's honest eyes. "What if it doesn't-"

"We'll worry about it if it happens." He finished for her. He kissed her hand. "Please?"

Phoebe smiled as happy tears glistened in her eyes. "Okay." She agreed.

"Yeah?" Nick grinned widely.

"Yeah." Phoebe nodded and laughed.

Nick laughed out loud and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

"Kids; I'm thrilled for you!" Jack's happy voice hollered from behind the door.

**xxx**

Phoebe left the hospital two days later. Her mother was very concerned about leaving her, no matter how much Nick assured her that he was more than capable of taking care of her daughter. She insisted on taking Phoebe straight to Nick's guest bedroom, not his own bedroom, when they arrived at his house. Phoebe, who had been walking more steadily for the past three days, didn't care for being coddled like this but it seemed as though it was more for her mother's benefit then her own so she just went along with it.

"Maybe I should stay with him; take care of you while he's at work." Penny muttered as she re-tucked Phoebe's sheets for the third time.

"Mum, he works nights. I sleep nights. He's a phone call away if I need him. And if not him; I have Brass and Grissom and Catherine and everyone." Phoebe assured her. "It'll be fine."

"Jack and I will come visit you every weekend." Penny said as she sat beside Phoebe on her bed.

"Ok." Phoebe nodded. She wasn't too thrilled about _that _idea. But again; it seemed to be something her mother needed so she had agreed.

Penny put her arms around her daughter. "I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you." She whispered softly. "Don't you go dying before me; you hear?"

"I won't." Phoebe smiled as she leant into her mother's body.

"I'm going to give Nick my cell phone number so he can call if he needs us." Penny said.

"He already has it, Mum." Phoebe reminded her. "And both of your pager numbers."

Penny sighed. "He's a good one, Pheebs. A really wonderful man." She squeezed her daughter's shoulders. "And he loves you so much."

"Don't scare him away, ok?" Phoebe told her mother. "Cos I kinda like him, too."

Penny laughed and kissed her daughter's forehead. "I wouldn't dream of it." She said. Then she hugged her tightly. "I'll call you tonight, ok?"

Phoebe nodded. "I love you, mum."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." Penny smiled.

Jack, who had already said his goodbye to Phoebe, was running through the phone numbers he'd left with Nick when Penny came out of the room.

"Hi, darling." Jack wrapped his arms around his wife. "Are you ready?"

Penny nodded. "I think so." She smiled. "Jack; do you mind giving Nick and I a minute alone?"

"Of course." Jack retracted his arms from his wife and threw them firmly around Nick.

"Oof!" A winded Nick grunted.

"Stay well, son." Jack patted his back. "And take good care of my girl."

"I will, sir." Nick assured him as Jack released his grip.

Jack kissed the side of Nick's face and slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Good man." Then he picked up the car keys and left the room.

"Nick; I wanted to say thank you." Penny spoke up. "Thank you so much for being there for my daughter."

"It's my pleasure." Nick answered.

"I want you to know that...when we said we wanted to take her back to Miami…it wasn't because we thought you couldn't to take care of her." Penny explained. "It's just...she's my only child. And between you and me I think I did a pretty god job."

Nick smiled. "I think so, too."

Penny smiled back. "And when we were told she was missing...I swore to myself that if she was found I would never let her out of my sight again." She shook her head. "But I didn't count on having to compete with you."

"Ma'am, I love your daughter." Nick assured her. "I really do. And I give you my word; I can take care of her."

Penny smiled and sighed simultaneously. "You're a very good man, Nick." She walked up to him and gave him a warm hug. "Don't lose that." She kissed his cheek as she pulled away. "We'll see you this weekend, ok?"

Nick nodded. "Can't wait."

"You lie worse than Phoebe." Penny laughed and pinched Nick's cheek. "Thanks again, Nick." Penny picked up her handbag and left the house. Just after he heard their car pull out of his driveway, Phoebe's voice flowed in from the guest bedroom.

"Are they gone?" She called.

"Yeah!" Nick called back with a smile. Next thing he knew, a blanket covered Phoebe was shuffling from the guest bedroom through the kitchen and into Nick's bedroom. Nick stood watching her move with a smile on her face. She disappeared into his room and seconds later called out again.

"Come take care of me." She asked with a whine.

Nick laughed as he head to his bedroom. "Gladly."


	58. Protaganist

**PROTAGANIST**

Phoebe's feet pounded heavily on her treadmill as she stared mindlessly at the TV screen. Over the past two months; this treadmill and Phoebe had become very close. It had been the only form of exercise the doctor's wanted Phoebe to take on so as not to put too much pressure on her lungs. She had been told to slowly increase her speed to get back to her regular fitness. Although Phoebe had realized she was actually in better shape now than before her attack.

"Pheebs?" Nick called out.

Phoebe realized it was the second time he'd called her name. She'd been living with Nick since the attack since she'd been kidnapped from her apartment and to be honest she didn't want to move out. But they had agreed that it was only for the two months that Phoebe had to recover; then she was going to move out. She'd actually found an apartment nearby work and Nick's place, but to actually _leave_ was proving more difficult then she'd thought.

"Pheebs!" Nick hollered coming into the living room.

"Yeah; what?" Phoebe asked, not turning around. She had discovered the hard way that it wasn't smart to change direction on a treadmill.

"You said let you know when you'd been on there an hour." He told her.

"Oh, thanks." Phoebe hit the _STOP_ button on the panel in front of her and the belt began to slow.

"Day dreaming?" Nick asked with a wry grin as she stepped off the machine.

"Yeah." Phoebe smiled as she toweled off her face. "But as of tonight I guess that's gonna be a pipedream."

"Grissom said you could take all the time you need." Nick reminded her. "If you don't wanna start back tonight; you don't have to."

"Yes, I know." Phoebe gave him a withering look. "But Nick, I _want_ to go back. I need the distraction."

"My place that boring?" Nick asked coyly as he walked closer to her.

"Only when you're not here." Phoebe replied sweetly.

"Aw, so lame." Nick wrapped his arms around her sweaty waist and kissed her lips.

Phoebe smiled as she kissed him back before pushing him away. "Alright, I gotta shower." she said as she headed for the bathroom. "Oh." She turned back. "I, ah, found an apartment the other day."

Nick leaned back against the arm of his couch. "Oh yeah?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah…" Phoebe trailed off. All she needed was a sign from him that he wanted her to leave and she'd happily move. Well, not _happily, _but she'd move.

"You can take your time, Pheebs." Nick said.

And there it was. _You can take your time._ Meaning _leave_ but I don't want to be mean so I'll just say _take your time._ Phoebe smiled in response and went straight to the shower. While she washed her hair Phoebe thought about how this time next week she and Nick would be celebrating seven months together. Would they celebrate here or in Phoebe's new place? It annoyed her that she even had to think about this. And all because she was too afraid to _actually_ move in with him under a medical guise.

Two hours later, Phoebe was dressed and ready to go back to work. Nick had the night off but he still drove her to CSI headquarters. They talked about everything but their living situation even though she knew it was weighing heavily on both of their minds. They pulled up to the building and Phoebe leaned over, kissing Nick's cheek lightly, before jumping out of the car and walking briskly into the building.

It was a weird feeling stepping back inside these oh-too-familiar halls. Like visiting your old primary school ten years later. Phoebe knew Grissom wanted to see her before she started her shift so she headed for his office. She didn't engage anyone on her way through; she would prefer it if no one mentioned anything to her about her attack. She just wanted to get back to work.

"Pheebs!" An excited voice called out to her.

Phoebe turned just in time to see Greg toss his arms around her. "Greg; hey." Phoebe hugged him back.

"It's so great to see you back." He told her as he pulled away. "You look awesome; as always."

"Oh, thanks." Phoebe pulled at the hem of her black t-shirt. "But look at you; all out of the lab." She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. In the time Phoebe had been gone Greg had been promoted to a CSI. He was out in the field and solving cases. They'd hired a new lab technician, a beautiful African-American woman named Mia. Phoebe hadn't met her yet but she had heard from Nick that she'd already turned down Greg. So Phoebe already liked her.

"Yeah, I know." Greg said, trying to sound arrogant. "I'm solving cases, saving lives, the whole shebang."

"That's great, Greg." Phoebe smiled. "Look I gotta see Grissom; we'll talk later?"

"Absolutely." Greg nodded. "Great to have you back, Pheebs."

"Thanks." Phoebe smiled as she continued to Grissom's office. She found her supervisor sitting at his desk inspecting what had to be an insect with a magnifying glass. She knocked twice on his open door and he looked up.

"Phoebe." He smiled widely. "It's wonderful to see you."

"Thanks." Phoebe said as she came into his office and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I take it you're anxious to get back to work." He stated more then asked.

"That obvious?" Phoebe smiled.

"Understandable." Grissom corrected her. "Don't worry; the second you get out in the field you'll feel right at home. I put you with Catherine and Sara tonight."

"Great." Phoebe smiled. She was waiting for the real reason she'd been asked to come in; her relationship with Nick. Both of them knew it was against policy and were more than likely going to be reprimanded.

Grissom held out his hands; indicating the end of their meeting. "That's all. Sara's in the break room."

"Ok…" Phoebe got to her feet and started to leave Grissom's office. But before she exited she found the courage to ask the question lingering in her mind. "Grissom?" Her boss looked up from his desk. "Aren't you going to say anything about me and Nick?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"Well, it's against the rules, isn't it?" Phoebe asked.

"Phoebe; it's not up to me to make assumptions on my staff's relationships, professional or otherwise." Grissom said. "That honor is reserved for Conrad."

When Grissom didn't elaborate, Phoebe was confused. "So…?" She prompted him.

"So..." Grissom said with a smile. Then he slipped his glasses over his eyes and went back to his paperwork.

Still confused, Phoebe turned and headed out of the office.

"For the record, Phoebe?" Grissom called after her, though not looking up from his desk. "I think it's fantastic."

Phoebe didn't turn back. She just smiled to herself and continued down the hall.

**xxx**

Phoebe did find Sara in the break room and after their little celebration over being reunited again was over; the headed to the crime scene. Catherine had called them and given them the address, she was already there with Brass. When Sara and Phoebe arrived at the scene, the National Bank of Las Vegas, both of them grabbed their kits and were greeted at the entrance of the bank by Captain Brass.

"Pheebs." He greeted her happily with open arms when he saw her. "Great to have you back."

"Thanks." Phoebe smiled at him. Jim had been a constant source of support for Phoebe in the months she'd been away. He visited her at Nick's every week to regale her with stories and jokes from a million years ago. He reminded her of her step-father, Jack.

"Well, we're keeping you busy with this one." Brass nodded at the building. "Cath's inside with Dave and the body."

"What do we know about the vic?" Sara asked.

"Morgan Leander. Thirty, unmarried, loved her job; according to her boss." Brass read from his notepad. "She was scheduled to work the late shift, the Boss, Henry Ford, closes the bank every night. Claims when he arrived at six she was already dead."

"Any other staff working?" Phoebe asked.

"Just one." Brass pointed to a nervous looking young man standing with a police officer. "Jason Kilpatrick. Morgan's assistant."

Phoebe watched the young man. He would pace every few moments, he was tugging slightly at his ear and was talking to himself. "What's wrong with him?" Phoebe asked.

Brass sighed. "He's autistic."


	59. Steps

**STEPS**

Sara and Phoebe both headed inside the bank to find Catherine. They found their friend hunched beside the body of a woman. The coroner, Dave, was finishing up his assessment.

"Hey Sara. Phoebe; wonderful to see you back at work." Dave greeted them as they came in.

"Thanks Dave." Phoebe smiled at him.

"Preliminary findings?" Sara asked nodding at the body.

"Most likely COD is blunt force trauma to the skull; hence all the blood." Dave said; gesturing to the large puddle around the victim.

"She fought back." Catherine spoke up. "I've collected skin samples from under her fingernails."

"I'll know more when I get her back to the lab." Dave nodded.

"Thanks, Dave." Sara smiled at him.

As Dave left the room, Catherine got to her feet and welcomed Phoebe back to work. Then she assigned Sara the left side of the building and Phoebe the right while she continued processing the victim.

It was a relatively small bank; not made for big business. Phoebe inspected the desk closest to the body. It appeared to belong to the victim; Morgan Leander. Her name was printed on some business cards by her computer. Her handbag was hanging off the back of her chair. Phoebe poured the contents out onto her desk. She found an empty pill bottle without a tag on it.

"She was taking something." Phoebe called out to her fellow CSI's. "Dunno what though."

"Collect it anyway." Catherine told her. "Mia might be able to find some residue to test."

Phoebe collected the bottle in a medium plastic bag and set it beside her kit on the floor. She found Morgan's wallet and flipped through it. There were some photos of some dogs but none of any other people. She also had all her credit cards and cash. "Hey; was any cash stolen from the vaults?"

"Boss said there's about ten grand missing from the safe; it's the only money that's kept on the premises at all times." Catherine informed her.

"How'd the robber get in?" Phoebe asked.

Catherine shook her head. "Not sure yet."

"Aren't there security cameras?" Sara looked up and around the room. "I mean; it's a bank."

"Camera's automatically shut off at six." Catherine told them with a sigh. "I already looked at them. At six; Morgan was alive and closing the doors."



"So let's say Morgan's closing up." Sara thought aloud. "Someone knocks at the door; maybe says they left something inside? A bag or jacket. She lets them in; they attack her."

Catherine nodded. "Maybe. But so far there's no sign of anyone else in the room."

"What about Jason?" Phoebe brought up. "Where was he when this was going on?"

"The last glimpse the camera's got of him he was re-arranging the filing cabinet." Catherine told her. "So far he's the only suspect; but I doubt he did it."

"Because he's autistic?" Sara questioned her.

"Because he has no motive." Catherine corrected her. "Plus I already checked him out; he's got no signs of blood or anything on his hands. And by the looks of Morgan; if Jason had attacked her; he would have."

"Has anyone interviewed him?" Phoebe asked.

"We tried; but he just seems to repeat the same thing over and over." Catherine told her. "_Morgan told me not to leave until she does._" She shook her head.

"Does he have any family?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah; his mother is coming to pick him up." Cath told her.

"Don't you think someone should talk to him before he leaves?" Phoebe countered. "I mean; he's the only witness to a murder."

"Hey; you wanna talk to him; be my guest." Catherine told her; getting to her feet. "Just don't get your hopes up. Everyone wants to be that one person someone like him opens up to; truth is that's rarely the case."

"I'd like to try." Phoebe told her.

"Go ahead. Sara and I will finish up in here." Catherine told her with an encouraging smile.

Outside Phoebe spied Brass trying to talk to Jason with no avail; he just seemed to agitate the young man. Phoebe interjected as Jason started pacing.

"Jason?" She addressed the anxious man. "My name's Phoebe." Jason didn't stop pacing; he didn't even look at her. "Can you tell me what happened inside?"

"No. Morgan said I can't leave until she leaves. I'm supposed to wait." Jason said; shaking his head. "I have to wait for her to leave."

"That's as far as I got." Brass told her tiredly.

"Can I have a second alone with him?" Phoebe asked.

Brass nodded. "Sure; I'll be over there." He pointed to where Dave was writing something on a clipboard. "Just holler." Then he walked away.

"Jason; can you tell me about your day?" she asked him. Phoebe had never dealt with an autistic witness before; she wasn't all that familiar with the disorder.



"Same as yesterday. Same as the day before." Jason told her. He stopped pacing and started fiddling with his ear; staring at the pavement.

"So…what does that entail?" Phoebe asked. "I mean; do you drive to work yourself?"

Jason shook his head. "No; too much pollution; it's bad for the air." He let go of his ear and started kneading his knuckles. "I get up at 8 a.m. Have breakfast; two pieces of toast and orange juice. Catch the 433 bus at 9:00 to Arnold Street. Walk one block to the National Bank of Las Vegas. Arrive at 9:10 Make Morgan her coffee. Black, no milk, no sugar." He paused. "She can't function without coffee."

Phoebe smiled. "Does Morgan say that?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah…"

"What do you do at the end of the day?" Phoebe asked.

"I make sure all the files are in order. Alphabetical. Aberly to Zukker." Jason told her. "I take out the trash; twelve garbage cans. And I make sure all the lights are _off._"

"Fair enough." Phoebe nodded. "Did you do all of that this evening?" she asked carefully.

Jason nodded. "I organized the files." He told her quietly. He didn't elaborate.

"What about the trash? And the lights?" Phoebe prompted him.

Jason shook his head and wrinkled his brow together. "No." He said; closing his eyes. "Morgan said I shouldn't leave until she does." He said to Phoebe.

"Jason!" A worried woman's voice called out.

Phoebe turned around to see a woman with Jason's eyes running towards them; his mother. "Ma'am, my name is Phoebe Parker; I'm with CSI."

"You've harassed my son enough." The woman said to Phoebe as she wrapped her arms around her son. "If there's nothing else; I'll be taking him home now."

"No; that's all we need for now." Brass said as he came up behind Phoebe.

Phoebe turned to him; annoyed that he'd stepped in on her turf. She opened her mouth to protest when she noticed two medics pulling a body on a stretcher out of the bank's front doors; Morgan Leander's body. Phoebe glanced at Jason; he was staring at the stretcher as it was loaded into the coroner's van. His eyes were bright with confusion. As the stretcher doors closed and his mother turned him away, Jason locked eyes with Phoebe. "I can go home now." He said in a low voice.


	60. Stress

**STRESS**

As Jason and his mother left and Morgan's body was driven away to the coroner's office; Phoebe headed back inside to Sara and Catherine. "What's new?" She asked, nodding at the crime scene.

"Possible murder weapon." Sara told her showing her a wrench with a blood smear on it. "I got two prints off it plus the blood. I'll compare the prints to all employees when we get back to the lab; at least they're on file."

"Pheebs, come check this out." Catherine called to her from the behind a desk where she was snapping a photo.

When Phoebe arrived beside Catherine she saw she'd been investigating a safe. And open safe with nothing inside. "Maybe that's where the ten grand was stashed?" Phoebe offered.

"Makes sense." Catherine agreed. "None of the cash out the back appears to be missing. It doesn't even look like anyone went back there."

"Hey; did Jason say anything useful?" Sara asked as she collected all her evidence together.

"No; not really." Phoebe told her. "His life is so organized; I guess so he has some stability."

"Well; I don't think he's going to be all the good of a witness." Catherine said slowly as she got to her feet. "Even if he does know what happened."

"I'm pretty sure he does." Phoebe told her. "He told me he organizes the filing cabinet every evening. So he would've been over there." She pointed to the wall of cabinets behind Sara. "Morgan's body was here." She moved to the centre of the room, which was very open. "He must've seen something."

"What about the Boss?" Sara asked. "Henry. Was he here when all this happened?"

Catherine shrugged. "He was here when I arrived; real agitated."

Phoebe's cell phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She checked the caller ID. It read Ecklie. She automatically groaned; he wanted to talk to her about her relationship with Nick. It was going to be very unpleasant; that Phoebe knew for sure. She clicked her phone to silent and put it back in her pocket.

"What's up?" Catherine asked, nodding at her cell phone.

"Ecklie." Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Ah." Catherine nodded. "About you and Nick, right?"

"Yeah." Phoebe nodded, eager to get back to work. "How long do you think I can avoid him for?"

Catherine laughed. "Good luck to ya."

The three CSI's continued processing for another hour but didn't find anything else useful so they all headed back to the lab. Catherine headed to the morgue to get the 

autopsy report from Dr Robbins and Sara went to get some 'real coffee' from down the street so Phoebe took what needed to be tested to Mia in trace.

"Hi." She greeted the new girl with a smile when she walked in. "I'm Phoebe Parker."

"Right; hi." Mia stopped what she was doing and shook Phoebe's hand. "I've heard a lot about you. You look good since, y'know…everything."

"Thanks." Phoebe smiled. She could tell Mia was uncomfortable; as was everyone, talking about what had happened a couple of months before. There was really no easy way around it so Phoebe tended to just move past it as quickly as possible. "Busy day?"

"Actually, pretty slow." Mia told her with a grin. "What've you got for me? You're working that case down at the bank with Sara and Catherine, right?"

"Yeah; that's the one. And I got loads for ya." Phoebe nodded. She put the collection of evidence bags in her hand up on one of the tables. "Can you test this and see if you can tell me what was inside?" She handed Mia the empty pill bottle. "Also test the blood on this one and see if it matches the victim's and if not-"

"CODIS." Mia finished for her.

"You got it." Phoebe winked. "Oh, and Catherine collected these DNA scrapings from under the vic's nails. Again, hit CODIS and get back to me. I'll be next door."

"No problem." Mia smiled and got straight to work.

Phoebe went into the adjoining lab and started searching the fingerprints Sara had pulled off of the wrench. Jason's, Morgan's and Henry's prints had been sent over already from the employee database so Phoebe could compare them ASAP. Before she could begin her phone began ringing again. She'd switched it off silent when they'd arrived back at the lab. Fearing it would be Ecklie again, Phoebe prepared to turn if off but instead was surprised to see _'Nick'_ on the caller ID.

She smiled and answered it. "Yes?"

"Busy?" Nick replied.

"Kinda." Phoebe leant back in her chair. "Scanning prints; the usual." Phoebe hit 'scan' on the printer to transfer the wrench fingerprints onto the computer. "You?"

"Eating." Nick answered. "I got a call from Ecklie before."

"Me too." Phoebe shook her head. "I have a feeling he's waiting until we're both here before he attacks us."

"Sounds about right." Nick agreed.

The printer beeped to signal it had finished scanning the prints into the computer. "When do you start, six?" Phoebe asked as she compared the prints from the wrench to the bank employees.

"Yeah; three whole hours away." Nick replied. "I'm on with Greg. Have you seen him in the field? He's such a newbie."

Phoebe chuckled. "I can't wait." Her smile faded when she got a match to one of the fingerprints. "Dammit." She muttered.

"You ok?" Nick asked.

"Define ok." She sighed. "I gotta go; I'll see you later, alright?"

"Yeah; alright." Nick said understandingly. "Love you."

Phoebe smiled. "Love you, too." She paused abruptly as Hodges wandered into the lab with a curious look on his face. "Bye, ma." Phoebe lied as she hung up her phone. "May I help you?" She smiled at Hodges.

"Ma?" He shook his head. "I'll bet if I checked your records your mother would mysteriously have the same number as Nick."

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Do I have to beat you up on my first day back?"

Hodges held up his hands and backed out of the room. He smiled and pointed a finger-gun at her. "Good to have ya back, sweetheart." As he exited, Sara came into the room with two large coffees.

"Any luck?" She nodded at the computer as she handed a cup to Phoebe.

"Yeah; and not good. I got a hit on one of the prints from the wrench." Phoebe sighed. "It's Jason's."

Catherine came in just in time to hear. "Well, we better call Brass." She sighed and held up two folders. "Robbins confirmed BFT to the head was the cause of death and the wrench is definitely the murder weapon. Impressions in the vic's skull match the tool and Mia just proved the blood was Morgan's."

**xxx**

Grateful for an excuse to get away from Ecklie, Phoebe accompanied Brass to Jason Kilpatrick's home. His mother, Lizzie, was reluctant to let them in until Brass showed her the warrant from the judge. She collected Jason from his room and led him outside giving Phoebe free reign of his bedroom. Brass came with her and watched from the doorway.

"What exactly are you expecting to find?" Brass asked her.

"Anything that shows Jason killed Morgan." Phoebe muttered.

"And you don't think he did." Brass surmised from Phoebe's tone.

"No, I _know_ he didn't do it." Phoebe corrected him.

"People with autism are known to have violent outbursts." Brass told her.

"Yeah; but not unprovoked." Phoebe countered. "He wouldn't just lash out at her. He liked her."

"Maybe she messed with his routine and he didn't like it." Brass offered. "Sees the wrench…"

"We collected skin samples from under Morgan's fingernails; she scratched the hell out of her attacker. Jason's fine; he didn't attack her." Phoebe said knowledgeably.



Brass nodded. "Ok…but that doesn't excuse why his prints were on the murder weapon."

"I know." Phoebe sighed. "That's why I'm here."

After an hour searching in Jason's room Phoebe found nothing to show that he had any violent or even angry feelings towards Morgan. His room was ultra organized. All of his clothes hung from the closet ironed and ready to go. His shoes were lined up underneath his clothes with all their laces tucked inside. His desk was spotless; all it had on it was a few puzzle books stacked in order from thickest to thinnest and three pens; all blue. The room had one bookcase with no books on it. Instead it was covered in model cars. Closer inspection told Phoebe that Jason had made them himself; each one has hand painted and they all looked extremely professional. Phoebe deduced that the only way she might have a chance and proving Jason wasn't involved was if she talked to him again.

Captain Brass took Lizzie back into the house and left a uniformed officer outside with Phoebe who sat at the picnic table with Jason. He started rocking back and forth when Phoebe sat across from him. "Hi Jason." She greeted him warmly.

"Hello." He answered in a monotonous voice.

"Do you remember me?" She asked hopefully. Jason shook his head but didn't make eye contact with Phoebe. "Jason; look at me." Phoebe leant forwards. Jason looked up at her.

"You are Phoebe Parker. You work with Las Vegas CSI. You work with the police. You are one of the good guys." He said slowly.

"That's right." Phoebe smiled. "I _am_ one of the good guys. And I need your help. Do you think you could help me?" Jason stopped rocking back and forth but didn't say anything so Phoebe continued. "Did you see Morgan get hurt last night?" Jason didn't reply. Phoebe paused and tried a different tactic. "Was Morgan fun to work with?"

Jason showed the faintest hint of a smile. "She likes to laugh. _Ha-ha-ha._" He mimicked her. "She's friendly. She is my friend."

"I'll bet you miss her." Phoebe didn't want to baby him; she was sure that's the last thing he wanted to hear. But having no experience with autism she wasn't actually sure that he _would_ want to hear. "Jason, I saw all those models in your room. They're really good."

Jason looked up and her and then away again. "Mom thinks they are a waste."

"Nah." Phoebe shook her head. "It's not a waste if you love doing it." She paused. "Do you use tools to make them, Jason?"

He nodded. "Tools and paints. All ordered from the company; the proper tools only." He said firmly. "I know all the tools."

"Are there tools at work?" She asked slowly.

"Not mine." Jason shook his head, but didn't seem perturbed. "Mine are smaller."

"Have you seen this wrench before?" Phoebe slowly took out a photo from her folder; a photo of the blood stained wrench.

Jason looked at it once and immediately started rocking again. "That's not mine."



"I know that; I know that." Phoebe told him quickly. "But I also know that you touched this wrench, Jason."

"It was on the floor." He said. "It wasn't meant to be there. I moved it but it didn't have a place so I left it on the floor."

"Does that mean it didn't belong in the bank?" Phoebe asked, seeing that Jason was getting agitated. "Did someone bring it in?"

"Mom!" Jason suddenly yelled. "Mom!"

Lizzie came running out of the house with Brass at her heels and immediately over to her son. She wrapped her arms around him and glared at Phoebe. "What did you say to him?"

"Ma'am, we found your son's fingerprints on the wrench used to kill Morgan Leander." Phoebe told her, showing her the photo.

"My Jason didn't do this." Lizzie almost laughed. "How could he?"

"I know he didn't do it!" Phoebe said loudly; put off by her own sudden outburst. "But I know he saw what happened!"

"Parker; quiet." Brass warned her.

"I want you off my property; you've caused us enough grief." Lizzie said to Brass and Phoebe as she led her son towards their house.

"What are you doing?" Brass snapped at Phoebe. "You can't tell your thoughts on a case to the witness's family. It's breaching confidentiality; you know that."

"Jim; he saw what happened." Phoebe told him; angry annoyance rising in her throat.

"Yeah; but for all you know she was attacked by a friend of his and Jason put an end to it by clocking her over the head." Brass replied; frustrated.

"You don't believe that." Phoebe shook her head at him.

"No; I believe what you _prove_, Phoebe." Brass countered. "So prove to me that he didn't do this and I'll believe you 100 percent. But until then you keep your mouth shut, alright?"

Phoebe sighed. "Yeah; sure, whatever." She muttered as she stormed back to her car. She could feel Brass's eyes on her every step as she walked away. She knew what he was thinking; she was thinking the same thing.

_Have I come back to work too soon?_


	61. Heavy Load

**_Sorry for the long wait guys! Hopefully it won't happen again :P Hope you liked this update. Nick/Phoebe fans should ;P_**

**--**

**HEAVY LOAD**

When Phoebe arrived back at the lab she was greeted by Sara on her way to the break room. "Hey." Phoebe nodded at her.

"Hey, check this out." Sara handed her some results. "Got a hit back on that second print off the wrench; was in the criminal database under a Mick Warren; electrician employed by the bank."

"No way." Phoebe said incredulously as she opened the file. A rap sheet stared back at her.

"Priors for grievous bodily harm as early as six month ago; man's got a temper." Sara said.

"Do we know where he is?" Phoebe asked.

Sara nodded. "Cath tracked him down; she's interviewing him downtown right now. But his DNA didn't match the scrapings under Morgan's nails so…" She shook her head. "Anything pop up at Jason's?"

Phoebe shook her head. "Kinda, I guess. He admitted he touched the wrench but just said that he moved it; that it didn't belong. When I questioned him further he got restless."

"Well, hopefully this electrician lead pans out." Sara nudged her reassuringly. "Mia got results back on that pill bottle; it was Cyclokapron; used to treat heavy periods."

"Well, that's a dead end." Phoebe sighed.

Sara nodded. "I'm with Archie in the AV lab; we're looking at footage from surrounding business's to see if we can get anything on the intruder. I'll meet you there."

"_Meet me there_?" Phoebe repeated quizzically. "Where am I going first?"

Sara nodded down towards the end of the hall where Conrad Ecklie was standing out the front of his office; a smarmy look on his face. Sara patted Phoebe on the back and they parted ways. Phoebe made her way as slowly as she dared to Ecklie's office. When she got there she realized she wasn't alone; Nick was already waiting. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was later then she'd thought; Nick's shift had started ten minutes ago.

"Good to have you back, Phoebe." Ecklie said as he closed the door behind her. "You're feeling well?"

"Yeah; good to be back at work." Phoebe replied nervously as she sat beside Nick.

"Well; I don't like this anymore than you two so let's cut to the chase." Ecklie said. "This is an administrative inquiry. The two of you were in direct violation of lab policy-"

"Are." Nick corrected him. "We _are_ in direct violation of lab policy." He looked over at Phoebe who smiled in return.

"Are" in direct violation of lab policy, which states that members of the same forensic team may not engage in a romantic relationship." Ecklie said. "When did the two of you begin your relationship?"

"Almost ten months ago." Phoebe answered.

"So it's serious. I mean, you _do_ currently live together?" Ecklie asked, making some notes on a pad in front of him.

"Yeah. Yes; it's serious." Nick replied with a nod.

"Yeah; it's serious." Phoebe agreed as she glanced at Nick; she wasn't sure if she should mention the fact that she was moving out. She didn't think it would bode well for their relationship if she brought it up in front of Ecklie so she took Brass's earlier advice and kept quiet.

"You are aware that this is against the rules and must be resolved immediately." Ecklie said looking up to them.

"Yeah; we get that." Phoebe told him. "But I have a feeling _your_ way of resolving this is us breaking up."

"And that ain't gonna happen." Nick told him, almost laughing. "So we need another solution."

"You both seem to have the impression that I'm out to make you miserable." Ecklie said in a way that invited them to immediately say something to the contrary. But neither of them did. The smile left his face and he leant forwards. "Look; I may not approve of your...relationship...but there is nothing I can do to stop you. Except this. I informed Grissom and Catherine yesterday that the CSI grave shift will now be split into two teams starting tomorrow. Catherine has been promoted to Swing shift supervisor. Stokes; you and Warrick Brown will answer to her. Parker; you'll continue to answer to Grissom alongside Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders; pending his proficiency that is."

Phoebe was shocked. She and Nick wouldn't be working together anymore? "Why are you doing this?" She asked.

Ecklie sighed. "You will no longer be in the same forensic team. Therefore you will _not_ be in violation of lab policy. Your union will simply be frowned upon; but there will be no ramifications."

Nick raised his eyebrows. Was this good news? With Ecklie you could never be sure. "Thank you?" Nick guessed.

"Don't thank me; I didn't do it for the two of you. I did it for the lab. And be advised, open displays of affection while on lab time will not be tolerated so leave that at home, are we clear?" Ecklie raised his eyebrows.

After a brief tenth grade flashback to a similar meeting in her principal's office, Phoebe nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Get to work; the both of you." Ecklie said as he looked back down at his paperwork.

Phoebe and Nick both left his office and went immediately into the locker room. They both wore the same confused expression. "Ok that was a little strange." Phoebe said slowly. "Is he helping us or trying to make us get no time together?"

Nick shrugged. "Who knows? But he's breaking up the team; that sucks."

Phoebe nodded. "Yeah...I'm stuck with Greg." She chuckled.

"Hey, move in with me." Nick said so suddenly Phoebe didn't really catch it.

"What?" She asked smiling.

Nick grinned. "Move in with me. Look; it's not scary, ok? When I was getting ready for work today I saw all your stuff around and I started thinking about what you said, about finding a new place to live and...it made me sad." He paused. "I don't want you to leave."

"Nick..." Phoebe started shaking her head.

"I love you." Nick grabbed both of her hands. "I love you and I wanna live with you."

Phoebe looked up at him. She wanted this, too. Why was it so hard to say yes. _Grr,_ she hated herself for not being able to say what she felt. It had taken a near-death experience for her to be able to tell Nick that she loved him. _This_ part was meant to be easy; she already sort of lived with Nick. He was just asking that they make it permanent. And that really wasn't that scary at all. A smile broke out on Phoebe's face.

"That's a yes?" Nick asked hopefully.

"Yes." Phoebe said calmly. "Yes!" She shrieked loudly and jumped into Nick's arms; kissing him firmly on the mouth as she did so. "Yes." She breathed again as she pulled away.

"I'm so happy you said yes 'cos look." He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I already got you a key."

"You are too cute." Phoebe; pushing aside the thought that he had a ring in his pocket, gripped his chin in her hand and kissed him again.

"Hey guys?" Greg's voice came into the locker room. Phoebe and Nick immediately pulled away from each other as Greg spotted them. A cheeky smile spread over his face. "What'cha doin?"

"Get back to work, Greg." Phoebe told him, hitting him in the forehead as she walked past him and out of the locker room.

"Yeah; sometimes you're so childish." Nick said as he followed Phoebe, shoving Greg gently in the shoulder as he walked by.

"Aw, you two can't get _nothing_ past me." Greg called after them with a knowing grin.

**xxx**


	62. DNA MIA

**DNA MIA**

Catherine arrived back at the lab and met Phoebe in the break room with a shrug. "Electrician has an alibi; was on stage with his band at a bar downtown. Thirty-five patrons can vouch for him." She shrugged again. "Claims that singing saved his life; got rid of that little anger problem. I got his prints but there's no point really since he says the wrench is his; his prints will be all over it." She sighed as she started making herself a cup of coffee. "He was there that day fixing the air conditioner; left it behind."

"Is this a very wordy way of telling me we got nothin'?" Phoebe asked her.

Catherine smiled. "We got nothin'." She chuckled. "Ecklie told me he told you about the changes."

Phoebe nodded. "I'm looking forward to it; _Supervisor Willows_." She winked at her.

"Don't start with that or I'll suspend you." Catherine said with a smirk. "Ooh; I'm gonna love this newfound power."

"When does this all powerful Catherine take over?" Phoebe asked.

"As soon as we finish this case." Catherine told her. "So let's get to it; shall we?"

Phoebe sighed. "Ok; so I'll go back to the crime scene; widen the perimeter maybe?"

Catherine nodded. "Good idea. See how well we work together?" She smiled and left the break room. Phoebe was following after her when she saw two familiar faces smiling widely at her from the end of the hall.

"Phoebe!" Her mother called, waving at her.

Phoebe walked towards them with a surprised smile on her face. "Mum. Jack. What are you guys doing here?" She asked, hugging them both at the same time.

"We came to see you." Penny said, brushing a hair behind Phoebe's ear. "First day back; how's it going?"

"Yeah, are you squeezing the perps before they lawyer up?" Jack asked; using knowledge he'd gained from watching law related TV shows.

"Jack; she's a scientist, not a cop." Penny told him with a chuckle.

"Jack! Penny!" Nick said as he came out of the AV lab. Throughout Phoebe's ordeal, Nick had developed a great bond with Phoebe's mother and step-father, in particular with Jack who had no children of his own and looked to Nick as a son. Nick greeted them both with a hug.

"Hey there son." Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Busy day?"

"Yeah, hit and run." He said with a sigh.

"Oh, did you hear that, Jack?" Penny nudged him. "My husband is a horrible driver." She said to Nick.

"I'm the best driver." Jack replied defensively.

"Oh yea?" Penny countered. "What about that squirrel you ran over?"

"That squirrel doubled back." Jack said to Phoebe and Nick. "He _wanted_ to die."

"Oh, Jack." Penny tutted him. "Anyway; we thought we'd catch a show before dinner, can you make it out of here?"

Phoebe thought to everything she had to do with her case. "I dunno; I'd like to. I'll see."

"Well; that's the best we can ask." Jack said, patting her on the shoulder. "We know how busy your jobs are."

"We won't keep you." Penny added briefly kissing both her daughter and Nick on the cheek. They said goodbye and headed off down the hall hand in hand.

"God…" Phoebe mumbled to Nick as they watched them leave. "Do you reckon we'll get like that? '_We_' won't keep you, '_we_' know how busy your jobs are…"

Nick sighed. "Well…they're happy…we're happy…so I'm gonna go with yeah." He replied.

Phoebe laughed and patted him on the cheek as she went back towards the lab. Nick headed into the break room and found Warrick making coffee.

"Hey Nick." Warrick greeted his partner as he poured a drink for his friend.

"Hey." Nick nodded at him.

"Man, that trial took _forever._" Warrick said tiredly as he collapsed onto one of the couches and loosened his tie. "Had to cancel dinner with Tina. Huh, she was _mad._"

"Tina?" Nick asked and he took both cups of coffee over to the couches at sat across from Warrick. "I thought it was Jane."

Warrick drank from his cup slowly. "No; Jane ended things about a month ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nick asked.

"Well, Phoebe just got released from the hospital." Warrick told him with a loose shrug. "I didn't want to bother you. Anyway; I just met Tina on the weekend. And I dunno, man…" he smiled. "She seems real."

"That's great, man." Nick smiled at him.

"Speaking of Pheebs...did you ask her?" Warrick asked with a wry grin.

Nick grinned and nodded. "She said yes."

"Aw, man that's great!" Warrick slapped him jovially on the back. "I knew she would." She sighed. "You and Pheebs in the same house; never thought I'd see the day. Well; that's a lie – of course I knew."

"Sure you did." Nick mumbled with a smirk.

"So you think you'll marry her?" Warrick asked.

Nick thought a few seconds; that was all he needed. "Yeah, I think so." He said.

"Whoa…" Warrick breathed. "I guess I should stop hittin' on her then."

Nick gave him a stern look but couldn't hold it long and the two of them ended up laughing.

**xxx**

On her way back to the lab, Phoebe noticed Brass coming into the lab. Phoebe swung left and went to greet him. "Jim; what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Thought I should tell you Jason was just arrested." Brass told her in a low voice.

"What?" Phoebe couldn't believe her ears. "How?"

"Morgan Leander's family has been pressing us. Jason _is_ the primary suspect." Brass explained with a shrug.

"Oh; he didn't do this, Jim. You know that; he's totally innocent." Phoebe sneered harshly; angrier at the situation she couldn't seem to get Jason out of than at Brass.

"No, you _want_ him to be innocent, Phoebe." Brass snapped back. "Because it's too hard for you to believe that someone like him committed murder. Why are you so quick to defend him?"

"Why are _you_ so quick to condemn him?" Phoebe said back as calmly as she could. "Jim, there is no cause, no proof and no motive to show that Jason did this so I'm not jumping to conclusions unlike _you_ who seems to have this whole thing figured out."

"Don't do that, sweetheart." He turned and walked away. "Don't turn this around and makes this about me."

"It is about you." Phoebe said as she followed; noticing they were gathering an audience from the other lab staff. "You don't think I should be back at work; you're second guessing me."

"I'm doing my job!" Brass turned back and yelled at her. "Just like _you_ should be doing!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Phoebe asked irritably - holding her hands out to her sides.

"Because I'm pissed off!" Brass yelled back at her.

"Well, good!" Phoebe yelled, aware that everyone in the lab was now looking at them.

Brass drew in a ragged breath. "Screw you!" He yelled at her.

"Oh, screw you back!" Phoebe replied immediately.

Then Brass started laughing. A real laugh; a genuine laugh. A laugh that said there was no bad blood between them. "I really hate you sometimes, Pheebs." He chuckled, waving a finger at her.

"Aw, you love me. Who're you kidding?" Phoebe smiled and winked at him before turning and walking away with a grin on her face.

Mia came out of the trace lab and met her in the hall. "Phoebe!" She yelped urgently. "I got something."

Phoebe followed an excited Mia back to her computer. "What?"

"I expanded the search perimeter on the DNA sample from the scrapings under Morgan's nails." Mia handed her a printout.

Phoebe looked at the results and then up and Mia with wide eyes. "It was her boss." Her eyes drifted up to see Brass leaving the lab. "Jim!" She hollered as she chased after him.

**xxx**


	63. Solution Resolution

**SOLUTION RESOLUTION**

Brass let Phoebe watch his interview with Morgan's boss, Henry Ford, through the one way glass but she wasn't allowed in. She was kind of glad; the way Henry was speaking about Jason irked Phoebe so much she felt her skin crawl.

"So we have your DNA under the victim's nails, Henry." Brass told him as he leant against the table.

Henry, sweating in a cheap suit, wouldn't look Jim in the eye. "That so?"

"Yeah, it's so." Brass repeated. "Good plan though; being at the crime scene when we arrived. Hell; you probably figured no one would believe Jason even if he did give you up."

Henry scoffed. "That retard was useless. Morgan wanted me to hire him; give him a chance." He shook his head. "Waste of my time."

"Is that why you wanted to fire him?" Brass asked. Henry looked up at him wide-eyed. "Yeah; see I got a warrant for your phone records after we found your DNA on Morgan; tracked down a nasty message you left on Jason's phone." Brass took out a portable tape recorder from his pocket, placed it on the table and hit PLAY.

"Jason; it's Henry. Your boss." Henry's condescending voice said from the recorder. "Look; just wanted to thank you for that awesome job you did messing up all my files. Great work. And the fact you're more than likely gonna make the same damn mistakes tomorrow is just...look; don't bother with work tomorrow. Take some time off...infinite time off...hey; you deserve it."

Phoebe was so tense watching Henry; she hated people like that. It made her wanna grab them and rip them a new armhole. She had the same attitude towards animal and child abusers. At least today Phoebe got some satisfaction in watching Henry blurt out his story. How it had been Morgan's idea to hire Jason, how when Henry told Morgan he wanted to fire him she threatened to quit, how in anger he just picked up the closest thing he could get his hands on – the wrench – and hit Morgan over the head. And, the icing on the cake, how he'd stolen the ten grand himself to make it look like there had been a robbery; knowing full well that as the only witness on the cameras, Jason would be prime suspect.

Waiting until Henry was definitely in cuffs, Phoebe waited for Jim in his office. He joined her about a half hour later. "What's up, Pheebs?" he asked her as he came in.

"Just needed you to sign this." She handed him her case file.

"Done." He said as he wrote on the dotted line. "Look, Pheebs, I'm sorry about all this. I should've trusted your judgment; it's never been wrong before."

"Don't sweat it, Jim. You're allowed one mistake." She winked.

"Truth is I was worried about ya coming back." He went to his desk and relaxed in his leather chair. "Hell; two months ago you were s'posed to be dead."

"I have a way of bouncing back." Phoebe shrugged with a smile. "Look…I know everyone's worried about me. But I'm fine." She told him firmly. "I really am. I have good people around me."

"I've heard." Brass smiled wryly at her. "Alright; get outta here. I'm sure you have a million better places to be."

Phoebe left the station feeling like she could finally exhale; the last couple of days had been intense. She called Nick from her car and found out he was already at home. They decided they'd have dinner together before meeting her parents for a show that night, Nick said he'd call them to confirm. Saying she'd be about another hour; Phoebe hung up and drove to one last place she had to visit.

When she arrived at the Kilpatrick house she grabbed a box from the back of her car and started towards the door. Jason's mother Lizzie peered at her through the kitchen curtains. She came outside and met her on the porch. "Hello." Phoebe greeted her.

"My son is resting; he's had a stressful few days. We all have." She sighed. "Being arrested today...I thought it would break him. But he's a strong boy; he always has been."

"I can see that." Phoebe agreed. "I wanted to say...if you felt I was too harsh on your son...I'm sorry."

Lizzie pursed her lips in a firm line and breathed a slow breath. "You were just doing your job. And you found Morgan's real killer. I can't ask you to apologize for that."

Phoebe smiled; about to say something else when she saw Jason appear behind his mother. "Hey there, Jason." She called to him.

"Hello." He replied as he walked out onto the porch.

"I brought something for you." She handed the box up to Jason. It was a model car for him to create; the same brand she'd noticed in his room the day before.

Jason, his eyes on the horizon behind Phoebe, kept walking towards her and came down the stairs slowly. He took the box from her hands and ran his fingers over it. He then took two more steps towards Phoebe and put an arm around her neck. "Thank you Phoebe Parker." He said to her.

"You're welcome, Jason." Phoebe smiled with glassy tears in her eyes.

**xxx**


	64. It's Raining Man

_**Saw this episode on TV and wanted to weave Phoebe in. I realize it's about a season behind where I am in my storyline; but meh; I just wanted to re-write it my own way. I hope you like it guys!**_

**IT'S RAINING MAN**

Phoebe slid her sunglasses over her eyes as she followed Catherine and Sara towards their crime scene. "Can't believe Grissom pulled us off that serial murder case." She grumbled as she fell into step beside Sara. The whole swing shift had been working on a sexual serial killer case that only grew more interesting when the two main suspects were found dead while under police surveillance. But with crime running rampant this month; Grissom couldn't keep the whole team on it and instead sent Sara and Phoebe, with Catherine supervising, to a college dorm where a young man had been found dead in a bathtub.

"Yeah, well, let me tell you how it ends." Catherine spoke up. "They die."

Sara chuckled as she looked up at the dormitory. "Whoa, this isn't half bad for college kids."

"Yeah. Why live in a one-room flea bag when you can pool your resources and live like this." Phoebe quipped.

"Hey, how 'bout it: Us, Warrick, Nick, Grissom ..." Catherine suggested.

"Oh, nnn ... Not Grissom." Sara said shaking her head.

"Ok; no Gil." She turned to Phoebe. "And you and Nick are _already _living together so it's not such a big thing for you."

"I guess not." Phoebe conceded.

"How's that going, by the way?" Sara asked. "Living with Nick?"

"It's great. Nearly two months in the same house and no big problems." Phoebe smiled. "We're actually thinking about getting a dog. But since I have Finley," She shrugged. "A cat _and _dog do _not _a happy family make."

"Give and take." Catherine nodded with a giggle. "Eddie and I had to make a whole lot when we first moved in together. Did you and Nick make compromises?"

"Nick did." Phoebe smirked as they headed into the house.

They were all immediately drenched in water. It reminded Phoebe of that scene in _Jumanji_ when a monsoon began inside the mansion. If Phoebe didn't know better; she'd say it was raining inside.

"What the hell is this?" Catherine snapped.

"Ma'am, you may want to take one of these." An officer said as he handed them an open umbrella.

"Thank you." Sara told him as the three women huddled underneath it.

"Where's the body?" Phoebe asked the officer.

"Upstairs." He replied; jeering his head to the sky.

"_Up_-stairs?" Sara repeated.

Catherine gaped up at the ceiling and saw that it was most definitely leaking from the floor above. "It's raining _man juice_?"

"Hallelujah?" Sara deadpanned.

"You might want to wear these." The officer told them all as he set down three pairs of black rubber boots.

The women all put their boots on and trooped upstairs. Sara lowered and closed up the umbrella. "Well; the weather's clearing." She smirked as they walked along the sodden carpet towards the bathroom.

"If only the smell would." Catherine added; scrunching up her nose.

"Man, it's like a sewer in here." Phoebe echoed, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes fell on the bathtub. What was inside it didn't even look human. "Oh my God." He'd obviously been decomposing for some time. His skin had swollen completely off his bones and was floating with his ballast in the dirty, decrepit water.

"Soup's on." Sergeant O'Riley, who was standing beside the bathtub with a disgusted look on his face.

"How long has he been in here?" Catherine asked, grimacing as she looked over the body.

"Roommates last saw him Thursday night. Took off for the weekend." O'Riley informed them. "Came home to this."

"Guy goes to take a shower and DFOs. He never got to the cold water, did he?" Sara asked the sergeant.

O'Riley nodded. "Roommate said only the hot water faucet was on."

"Must've been a steam bath in here." Phoebe concurred; looking for a dry place to set down her kit. "Any evidence on the floor's been washed away; how are we gonna go this?"

"There, uh ..." Sara cleared her throat; suppressing her gag reflex. "There could be something in the tub." She realized.

Phoebe looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You tellin' me we gotta take that body and get it through that door?"

Sara sighed and looked around. "There is another option." She nodded her head at the bathroom window.

**xxx**

It took the better part of an hour for the ME boys to bundle up the bloated victim and carry him out the window, over the roof and down to their waiting van. Cath, Sara and Phoebe all changed into singlets and rubber boots before getting to work on what was left of the scene.

Phoebe, who realized she was becoming an expert and breathing through her mouth; scanned the overflowing bathtub as she pulled on some shoulder high gloves. "Ok; what are we looking for here?"

"Nothing yet," Catherine told her. "Let's just load up the gunk and get it back to the lab. We'll search it there."

"Do you mean we'll search it there," Phoebe asked, indicating the three of them. "Or _we'll_ search it there?" she pointed at herself and Sara.

"For me to know." Catherine winked at her.

Phoebe groaned as she helped Sara set up two containers to collect the liquid in the bath. Catherine scooped it up with a jug and poured it into buckets that Phoebe and Sara were manning. It took almost two hours to transfer all the murky water and the smell only got worse when they disturbed the scene.

"This drain hasn't been tampered with." Catherine spoke up with a grimace as she emptied the tub. "It's just clogged. I think this is an accidental."

Sara was checking the medicine cabinet. "There's nothing but young people stuff. No meds, except some aspirin. No prescriptions."

"Yeah, well, college boys don't get drugs from medicine cabinets." Phoebe pointed out. She sighed as she looked around the drenched room. "There's no sign of struggle. Any prints would have been washed away." She shrugged. "Where does that leave us?"

Catherine sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Same place we were when we walked through the door -- with a bloated floater." She smirked.

**xxx**

Nick was taking a much needed break from his serial murder case and meandered his way into the break room with plans to flop mindlessly on the couch for a half hour or so. Those plans were dashed when he saw Hodges at the stove concocting something pungent and steaming.

"What the hell is that?" Nick asked as he covered his mouth.

"The girls have a decomp," Hodge's replied, stirring the pot on the stove. "Stinking up the whole building."

"Hodge's; I'm used to decomp." Nick told him. "I am not used to," he glanced over Hodge's shoulder. "Whatever the hell that is."

"For your information; this is an ancient Chinese recipe for shrimp and tofu soup." Hodges explained proudly. "Very nutritious and quite tasty."

"It smells like garbage." Nick told him.

"Says yee of the MacDonald's era," Hodge's sighed. "You know nothing of good taste."

"Says yee of green tweed." Nick quipped back.

"Nick," Hodges huffed. "Would you just open your thick skull for a moment?" He spooned some soup in a ladle and lifted it to his nose. "Granted; it might not smell that great but it tastes like...like...ok, close your eyes."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"Just do it," Hodge's told him. Nick closed his eyes. "Ok; now think of the best sex you've ever had."

Nick sighed. "Ok."

"Are you thinking about Phoebe?" Hodge's asked.

"Yeah." Nick found himself grinning.

"Great; what's that like?" Hodge's asked hopefully.

Nick clenched his jaw, opened his eyes and glared at Hodges. "You're a moron." He said, smacking him in the back of the head. "And you're gonna wanna get that crap outta here so I can relax or I'm tossing it down the sink.

"Criticism noted." Hodges told him as he gathered up his lunch and scurried out of the room.

**xxx**

The three CSI's headed back to the lab with their tubs of man juice and Catherine, the giving supervisor that she was, gave Sara and Phoebe the job of sifting through it. The two of them; who had changed clothes the second they got back to the lab, weren't all too thrilled about ruining a second set of clothes. But the job was the job; as gruesome as it so often was.

"We looking for anything in particular?" Sara asked as she stood in front of the buckets.

"Anything." Catherine answered vaguely. "Bullet, fingernail; anything out of the ordinary."

"Out of the ordinary?" Phoebe repeated. "Cath; they're buckets of man liquid. Since when is that ordinary?"

"Touché." Catherine replied.

"We have to literally sift the man-soup; don't we?" Sara realized with a scowl. "God; I love my job." She added sardonically.

"I'll be back to check on you." Catherine said with a smile as she backed out of the lab.

"Alright," Sara said purposefully as she stood beside Phoebe. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

Three hours, no result, and another stained shirt later, Catherine came back into the lab and told Phoebe to move over to the other lab and process Bloater's clothes she'd collected from his laundry basket.

"Gladly." Phoebe said happily; pulling off her gloves and heading out.

"Pheebs? Change." Catherine told her with a wrinkled nose.

Phoebe sniffed her shirt. "Good plan." She nodded.

Unfortunately, as Phoebe searched her locker, she realized she had no clean shirts to wear. So she went in search of fresh clothes. Sarah was wearing her last clean set and Phoebe's chest was too big for anything Catherine owned. Thinking she'd see if Mandy was working and perhaps had a shirt she could borrow; Phoebe headed past the break room and saw Nick resting on the couch with his arm over his eyes. She wandered in as quietly as she could and stood nearby; waiting for him to smell her entry. It didn't take long before Nick began look disgusted and sniff the air.

Nick lifted his head and saw Phoebe standing before him with a wide grin on her face. "Hey." He greeted her."You smell...nice."

"Actually I smell like decomp from a twenty-something year old man whose been soaking in a hot bath for two days." Phoebe corrected him. "But I thank you for the compliment." She smiled.

"So," Nick got to his feet. "What's up?"

"I need a shirt." Phoebe told him. "I got man gunk all over mine."

"What about your spare one?" Nick asked, not perturbed by the phrase 'man gunk'.

"This _is_ my spare one." Phoebe gestured to the stains on her shirt.

Nick laughed. "And I'm you're source of clothes?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well; Sara's wearing her last clean set and Catherine's clothes are too small. Come on," She pleaded. "I promise not to stretch it out too much with the ladies." She gestured to her boobs.

"Hey, the ladies can stretch it all they want." Nick told her with a smirk. They headed into the locker room where Nick pulled a white t-shirt out of his cabinet and handed it over to Phoebe. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." She said gratefully, ducking behind the row of lockers to change.

"You know; you shoulda asked Greg," Nick spoke up as he watched her peel her stained shirt off her body. "He's closer to your size than I am."

"Clever boy," Phoebe smiled at Nick as she tossed her shirt. No use in cleaning it; it was old. Faithful; but old. "I didn't see him in the lab..."

"Nah; Rick and I got him searching the streets around our crime scene looking for a soda bottle silencer." Nick laughed. "He's been out there two hours."

"You two are cruel," Phoebe smirked at him as she pulled Nick's shirt over her head. It was loose but it was clean. And it smelled like Nick; a bonus Phoebe was happy to deal with. "Thank you for the shirt." She pulled Nick behind the lockers and kissed him deeply. Their relationship may be known to the lab now, but they were being watched like a hawk by Ecklie who seemed to be just itching to reprimand them for one reason or another. The hidden kisses the couple were sharing were proving to be quite exciting.

"I gotta get back to work." Nick muttered disappointedly as he broke away from the kiss. "Break ended five minutes ago."

"Ok," Phoebe assured him. "I dunno how long my case is going to be so dinner might be a take-away situation."

"Our favourite kind." Nick grinned, kissing her gently on the lips just before he headed out. "I'll call you if I get off before you."

"Yeah, ditto." Phoebe echoed as he left. She sighed contentedly as she watched him walk away. "God; I love that man." She muttered to herself.

**xxx**


	65. Let's Go Sportsfans

**LET'S GO SPORTSFANS**

Now clean shirted and back to work, Phoebe headed into the Trace Lab and started examining the Bloater's clothes. She grabbed his t-shirt first and noticed a red substance stained on the cloth. She flipped it inside out, flattened it and snapped a photo. There was a void in the stain. Phoebe used some plastic rulers to make an outline of the impression and was mulling it over when Sara came into join her.

"Find anything?" She asked.

"Yeah," Phoebe said; furrowing her brow at the shape on the shirt. "A backwards seven."

Sara looked just as confused. "What's it doing on a DB's shirt?"

"I dunno." Phoebe answered. She lifted the shirt in her fingertips and rubbed them together. "Greasepaint or make up." She deduced.

"How do you get paint on the _inside _of your clothes?" Sara asked as Catherine came in to join them.

"Rubs off your chest." Catherine stated as she looked over the shirt. "What kind of guy paints his chest?"

"Performance artist?" Sara suggested. "A clown maybe?"

"Sports freak." Phoebe smiled. "Some friends and I did this when I was a kid at a _Broncos _game. I was the second 'O'."

"How exciting for you." Sara smirked.

"So; we should check the bars on campus," Catherine spoke up as her pager went off. "Might find out why number seven was so important to our DB." She checked her pager. "Meanwhile; we gotta date with Doc Robbins."

**xxx**

Catherine, Sara and Phoebe headed down to the morgue to the news that Doc Robbins had been able to ID their bloated victim. He was too decomposed for his roommates to be one hundred percent sure but his dental records had come through with the name; Daniel O'Hannissey. The Doc informed the CSI's that Daniel had been in a fight before his death; he had a laceration on his forehead and contusions on his ear as well as a nasty hematoma in the brain. The brain in question was also a hideous shade of green due to the fact that Daniel had been steaming for two days.

"Cause of death?" Catherine asked; glancing over their deflated victim.

"Ruled out drowning," Doc Robbins told them. "There was no water in the lungs. He was dead before he hit the water. So, you are looking at it -- a blow to the back of the head." He indicated the marks on the victim's skull. "Resulted in a subdural hematoma. Sort of like a slow leak in a tire.

Phoebe furrowed her brow. "Kinda like a slow leak in a tire?"

Doc Robbins nodded. "Odds are Danny had no idea he was bleeding in his brain. He probably felt fine. Maybe a little woozy. Then out of nowhere, he drops."

"How long do you think he lived after the blow?" Sara inquired.

"12 to 24 hours." The Doc answered.

"Well, he had to have been in the water for a couple of days to look like this." Catherine told Sara and Phoebe. 

"Roommates last saw him Thursday. So I guess we start there and we work backwards." She nodded her thanks to Roc Robbins and the three CSI's left the morgue.

**xxx**

Catherine sent Phoebe and Sara off to talk to Daniel's roommate, Alan Roland, while she finished up with paperwork so Sara drove the pair of them back to the college to meet with Alan.

"You know, Daniel was from Green Bay." Alan was saying to Phoebe. "Big-time diehard football fan. He tried to walk-on here, but, uh ... didn't make the team. But, hey, come game night, he was always at the stadium."

"What about the away games?" Phoebe asked.

"He watched one game at home and lost all of his chill privileges." Alan shook his head. "It was ugly."

"Define ugly." Phoebe pressed.

"Busted the couch, jumping on it." He pointed at his broken couch. "Neighbors called the cops 'cause he was so loud. He was a real bluto."

"Where else did he 'bluto'?" Sara asked wryly.

Alan told them all about a bar that was just off campus, _Bar & Ball_; specifically a sports bar. The CSI's headed over there as soon as they could.

It was quite busy but not too full. Phoebe and Sara found a waitress cleaning tables, Tracy, and questioned her about the college guys. She seemed to know quite a lot. "Everybody knew Dan-O." Tracy told them. "He's the kind of guy that keeps a place like this in business. I'm going to miss him."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Sara asked.

"When was the last Rebel game...um...Thursday." She remembered.

"Did you notice anything?" Phoebe asked. "Did he...feel okay?"

"Better than okay." Tracy grinned. "He was pumped. He was so pumped that him and some of his buddies got into it with some other guys."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Sara asked. "He started a fight?"

"No, Shirley Temple started the fight." Tracy said with a chuckle. "Dan's team was wiping the floor with the visitors. Some guys from outta town were by the flat screen." She nodded at the plasma against the wall. "Dan sent some Shirley's over to 'em; made 'em feel _real_ good about themselves."

"How'd the visitors take it?" Phoebe asked; suppressing a smile.

"Not so good." Tracy told them. "Wayne; the out of towner? Came up to Dan and got into a beef. But you know how guys are; they scrap until someone gets a touchdown." She shrugged.

"Yeah," Sara said. "Yeah, right."

"Do you see any of those guys in here now?" Phoebe asked; gesturing to the bar.

Tracy looked around. "There's a couple of Shirley's," she pointed across the room. "Over there by the big screen."

**xxx**

It didn't take long for Sergeant O'Riley to get Wayne downtown for an interview. He chuckled when Phoebe mentioned Daniel and his friends from the bar; obviously not knowing of his demise.

"We have a witness that said you guys had a beef." O'Riley told him; wiping the smile off his face. "Specifically, you and number seven."

"Dude, I don't even know those guys, okay?" Wayne said quickly. "They came in, they tried to be funny, and we set them straight; gave them a little talking to."

"Any blows exchanged?" Sara inquired. "Physical contact?"

"Did that punk bitch rat us out?" Wayne asked irritably. "It was harmless. It was nothing."

"Punk bitch? A kid is dead." Sara told him firmly.

"What?" Wayne looked completely shocked.

"Dan O'Hannissey is dead." Sara explained.

"I didn't do anything." Wayne said defensively; his voice raising a few octaves. "Hey, that guy left before we did, and he was fine. He was still running his mouth."

"I suppose your buddies will testify to that?" O'Riley asked.

"Yeah, they'll testify to that." Wayne nodded vehemently. "Look, you can ask anybody who was in there."

Phoebe noticed the ring he was twirling on his finger. "Interesting ring you've got on."

"College ring; the SMU sharks." Wayne explained.

"Mind if I borrow it?" Phoebe smiled sweetly.

"You want to borrow my ring?" Wayne slid it off his finger and passed it to Phoebe. "Okay. Take it. I didn't do anything."

"You're not under arrest." O'Riley informed him. "You're free to go."

**xxx**

"What tipped you to the ring?" Catherine asked Phoebe when she found her testing the ring back in the lab.

"Jaws." Phoebe replied.

"The movie?" Catherine furrowed her brow.

Phoebe nodded as she put the ring under the microscope. "Nick's mad for Animal Planet; the other night they had this behind the scenes of Jaws; told us all about the shark in the movie; a mechanical shark named Bruce. One day during filming he started swimming around in circles."

"How come?" Catherine smiled.

"His dorsal fin was bent." Phoebe informed her; nodding her head at the scope. "Check it out; so's Wayne's ring."

Catherine glanced down the scope. "How did Bruce's fin get bent?" she asked her.

"Same way the ring did." Phoebe smirked. "It hit something."

With their culprit now a certainty; Phoebe and Sara contacted O'Riley who had Wayne back in the interrogation room within the hour. Phoebe delighted in telling him all about how his ring had given him away.

"You gotta be kidding me." Wayne shook his head in disbelief.

"You threw a punch." Sara told him. "Probably a sucker punch."

"Look, I told you, that guy walked away." Wayne said nervously.

"But he was already dying." Phoebe informed him. "And you're responsible. Your punch caused a bleed in his brain."

"Now who's the punk... bitch?" Sara quipped.

**xxx**

With her case solved; Phoebe was able to head home almost straight away. She finished signing some last minute, end of case, protocol paperwork and then headed home. As she pulled into the driveway; she noticed Nick's car was already there. Happy they were going to have a night together, she climbed out of her car and headed inside. It had taken about a month for Phoebe to get used to calling Nick's place her own. She'd had to leave her little apartment but since that was where she'd been attacked by Nigel; it was more than easy to say goodbye to. The only thing she'd really needed to take with her was her cat, Finley, and he had settled into Nick's almost right away.

Phoebe called Nick's name as he entered the house, but he didn't answer. "Nick?" she called again. She headed into the living room and saw the TV on. She smiled as she saw Nick fast asleep on the couch lying on his stomach. Phoebe tossed her bag beside the couch and took off her jacket and shoes before laying herself on top of Nick's back and kissing his cheek a few times to wake him up.

"You still smell." He mumbled tiredly.

"Thank you." She answered, lifting herself up off Nick.

"No, no," Nick rolled over onto his back and pulled her back down on his chest. "Didn't say I couldn't stand it." He hugged her.

Phoebe sighed into Nick's chest, completely content and the pair of them fell asleep together barely minutes later.


	66. Grave

**GRAVE**

At the end of a long, _long_ shift, Phoebe was getting ready to leave for the morning while Nick and Warrick were preparing to start. Phoebe had just finished a solo homicide case in Henderson and was finally getting some time off. Jack and Penny had somehow convinced Nick and Phoebe to come to Miami to stay for a week. Phoebe was flying down tonight and Nick was going to join her after his shift. Since they hadn't seen each other properly for a few days; they were spending their spare twenty minutes between shifts together. Warrick was prepping to start his shift as well and was also informing his friends of his eventful weekend.

"So I took my girl to that Ultimate Fight Championship on Saturday night." He was saying as he pulled a clean shirt on.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, down over at the, uh, Spur?" Nick asked as he tied up his boot lace.

"Yeah. Almost ended up getting into a smack down of my own." Warrick shook his head.

"No way. You almost got into a beef?" Nick turned and looked back at him.

"But you're so weak." Phoebe teased him as she sat cross legged on the bench beside Nick.

"Thank you." Warrick smirked at her. "You know, Tina doesn't like me carrying a gun. I play down the fact that I'm a cop when I'm with her anyway." He explained as he took his pistol out of his locker.

"Yeah, yeah, you play the scientist card." Nick grinned. "You're a "_copologist_."" They all chuckled.

"So, uh, we're standing out in front of the hotel making out and this guy walks up to me, gets in my face, and asks me _how she is_." Warrick told Nick with a shake of the head as he added a new cartridge to his gun.

"No, he didn't." Nick asked wide-eyed.

"Why is that such a bad thing?" Phoebe asked as she looked between both men.

"You want some guy askin' me how _you_ are when we're making out?" Nick told her with raised eyebrows.

"Ohh…" Phoebe understood. "Creepy." Warrick nodded. "So what happened?"

"I tell him to get lost. He says, "Make me."" Warrick held his hands out, mimicking the man's stance. "So I took a step forward and out of nowhere his big, fat bodyguard, looking like Wimpy from Popeye, walks up and starts to close in on me."

Phoebe and Nick laughed. "So, this is out of the front of the hotel?" Nick asked through his laughter.

"It was at the valet parking, which might as well be in Arizona, it's so far away from the lobby." Warrick continued. "This fat boy is looking like he's obviously carrying some sort of weapon. And I'm standing there naked as a porn star with my girl."

"Did you tell them you're a "cop"?" Nick asked with a grin.

"They didn't seem to care. One of the guys sounded Russian, like he was wannabe Mafia." Warrick rolled his eyes. "Fat boy was obviously his bodyguard. So, uh, you know, I wasn't physically afraid of the guys, but something was kind of sinister about them. They were provoking me, but they weren't making a move. It was almost like they were waiting for me to make a move. Say if I smacked Big-Mouth, Fat Boy woulda came over and stabbed me or something. Even Fat Boy was vibin' me not to take the bait.

"So what happened?" Nick asked as he checked his gun and slid it into his holster.

"Well, valet finally brought Tina's car up. So, I maneuver her around these guys and I put her in her car, and I turn my back to them and let 'em talk this smack." Warrick pretended his locker was the car and leant against it; reenacting the scene. "I'm calming Tina down. Tell her everything is fine. She drives off and I walk away. I called Tina later on and I tell her, uh, you know, if she got any problem with me being a cop, she needs to get over it, 'cause now I'm packing."

"Yeah." Nick nodded; agreeing with his friend. "Yeah."

"What'd you do on Sunday?" Phoebe asked.

"Scoured the hotel looking for these punks." Warrick smirked and slammed his locker shut. Nick and Phoebe laughed. "So what are you two up to this week?"

"We're going to my folks." Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Hey; it's Miami. And their place is huge." Nick reminded her.

"Yeah; but my grandmother's coming." Phoebe told him.

"The one with the tattoos?" Warrick asked.

"No; that's Nana; my mum's mum. Grams is Jack's mother which makes her my step-grandmother." Phoebe explained, crinkling her brow. "She's the one who turned Jewish for her fourth husband. And then when they divorced she didn't convert back because she, and I quote, 'liked the Jew-talk too much'."

"Oh yeah." Warrick shook his head and laughed. "Pheebs your family is twelve dimensions of weird."

"I know, right?" Phoebe agreed. "But hell; are least we're interesting."

Nick nodded in agreement. "They're good people. Jack's awesome."

"And man does he love you." Phoebe put an arm around him. "Warrick; you shoulda seen Jack's face when Nick came to his birthday party; he treated him like a God!" She clasped Nick's jaw in her hand and wiggled it. "Made sure everyone met his favourite little guy."

Warrick laughed at them and slid his vest on. He was one of the people at the lab who didn't mind Phoebe and Nick being 'coupley' around him. Sure it was against lab policy; but who cared? They were happy.

"Stop it." Nick blushed; pulling his chin out of Phoebe's grasp. "I like Jack; he's a fun guy; really keeps things simple."

Phoebe furrowed her brow. "Nick, keep in mind that you are talking about a man who once got arrested at the park for chucking his shoe at a swan."

"He got arrested for chucking a shoe at a swan?" Warrick asked with a laugh.

"Well, that _and_ when the police asked him why he did it he screamed 'it's called protecting your sandwich!'" Phoebe remembered with a smile. "They thought he was a drunk vagrant; but that's just how he is. Couple a years ago he backed his car into a nativity scene and ran straight over the baby Jesus. The local paper called it a hate crime. And now that article is framed and sitting beside his and my mother's wedding picture on the mantel." Phoebe shrugged. "He's a sixty-five-year-old child but he's fun as hell."

Phoebe tagged behind Nick and Warrick as they head out into the hall. Catherine, relishing in her supervisor position, met them just outside her office. "Ah; my two favourite boys." She spotted Phoebe. "And girl." She winked at her. "I've got an assault at Stripperama and a trash run at Flamingo and Koval. I'm too busy to play favorites, so duke it out." She handed a job slip of each case to the guys and turned on her heel.

"Duke it out." Nick shook his fists playfully at Warrick. "Boy! Better flip a coin. I'll hurt you."

"Yeah; better flip that coin." Warrick smirked as he dug a nickel out of his pocket. He held it out to Phoebe. "Pheebs; you wanna toss it?"

"No; coins hate me." Phoebe shrugged. "They just do." She added when Warrick opened his mouth, presumably to ask why.

"I got it." Nick took the coin from Warrick. "Call it in the air." He flicked it up off his thumb.

"Heads." Warrick called.

Nick caught the coin, checked it and sighed. Warrick glanced at the coin, laughed and handed his job slip to Nick. "Have fun at the trash run."

"Oh; coins hate you, too." Phoebe said to Nick. "Crap; it's contagious."

Nick smiled and backed away from Warrick. "You know, I'd do two out of three, but you got a gambling problem." He and Phoebe headed away, but Nick turned back. "No, hey you know what?" He held the coin up to his friend. "You keep this. Bad luck." He tossed the coin back to Warrick.

Phoebe and Nick walked down to the parking lot together. She was driving straight to the airport from work; she'd packed the morning before in preparation. "I'm sure I've forgotten something." She mumbled as Nick walked her to her car.

"If you remember; gimme a call and I'll bring it tonight." Nick offered. "I only got this dang trash run; should be there early morning. Wait up for me?"

"Always do." Phoebe smiled as they reached her SUV. "Call me when you're on your way, though, or Jack'll think you're a burglar and come after you with a baseball bat. Imagine his face when he finds out he beat up his favourite son."

"Ha-ha." Nick laughed dryly as he kissed her. "You do realize that right now I'm getting paid to kiss you."

"I know; it's so hot; let's do it in the backseat." Phoebe told him eagerly grabbing his collar.

Nick laughed. "Would be a good way to get fired." He kissed her warmly and hugged her. "I'll see you tonight, ok?"

"Ok." Phoebe agreed as she climbed into the front seat of her car. Nick kissed her once more through the open window and then headed to his own SUV. "Hey." Phoebe called after him. "Be careful; would ya? Cos I kinda like you."

"Kinda like you, too." He replied with a grin. He then waited until Phoebe drove off into the evening before he got in his car and headed to the crime scene.

**xxx**

On the way to the scene, alone in his car, Nick sung along to one of his favourite songs. "_It was Christmas in Las Vegas, when the locals take the town. Theresa hit a streak and laid her waitress apron down. She was playing penny poker over at the old Gold Spike. She's tired of Texas hold 'em so she switched to let it ride. Then over on Fremont Street. Six pits won her a car. She rode it up the strip to where the flashy hotels are_." He pulled up into the empty parking lot of the crime scene. "_At first, she hit a royal, not a dirty one this time, and then she drew four deuces ..._" He shut off the radio and reached for his phone which was buzzing as a text message came through. It was from Phoebe.

_Hey. At airport waiting for flight – too many people.  
We need new plague; thin out the herd. Will call when land. Luv u! xx Pheebs_

Nick chuckled to himself and slipped his phone into his pocket. He then slid his camera around his neck and grabbed his kit from the backseat before heading over to the officer at the scene,

"Nick." The officer greeted him.

"D.A." Nick nodded at him, noticing he looked a sickly shade of green. "What's going on out here?"

"Well, anonymous 9-1-1 caller reported body parts in this area." Officer D.A. told him. "I rolled and found this." He directed the torch he was carrying downcast and showed Nick what looked like intestines piled in a bloody puddle in the middle of the concrete.

"Hmm. Tasty." Nick muttered, glancing over the remains. He set his kit down and started snapping a bunch of photos. Nick opened his kit and tossed out an evidence marker beside the blood puddle.

"Have any idea how long it's going to take you to get this stuff out of here?" D.A. asked looking off into the distance so he wouldn't have to look at the scene.

Nick looked up t him. "Well ... I can't move the, uh," He jabbed a thumb at the remains. "The "body" until the coroner releases the scene. It's a busy night. It's probably gonna take a while, man." He snapped another photo.

"You mind if I step away for a second?" The officer asked, looking even sicklier. "I need to get some fresher air."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, take your time." Nick nodded. D.A. looked thoroughly relieved as he left Nick to his devices. He almost gagged at the smell coming off the intestines but he was used to this kind of thing. Apparently, D.A. was not. He turned and saw the officer retching beside his patrol car. "Hey, you want some gum?" he called to the officer as he pulled a pack of gum from his pocket.

"No, thank you." D.A. called back with a wave of his hand.

Nick grinned to himself and popped a piece of gum in his mouth. He then grabbed a stack of evidence markers from his kit and proceeded to extend his crime scene. He could still hear D.A. retching behind his car. Towards the back of the parking lot, Nick found a broken cigarette with its tobacco spilling onto the concrete. He placed a marker down beside it and took a few photos before continuing on. Even further at the back Nick spotted some tire treads to which he added another marker and took more photos. A cool breeze came over the parking lot causing the hairs on the back of Nick's neck to stand up straight. He glanced around and spotted what appeared to be a plastic bag with a Styrofoam cup inside sitting on the concrete sidewalk near the red fire hydrant. Intrigued, Nick put his flashlight town and snapped on some latex gloves from his vest pocket.

Officer D.A. retched loudly behind him which made Nick chuckle and shake his head as he gathered his things and headed over to the cup. He knelt down beside the fire hydrant. He took a few photos then turned back to D.A. He tried to call out to him, but the officer was resting his hands on his haunches and out of earshot. Nick sighed and picked up the bag. That was when he noticed it wasn't just a plastic bag, but an evidence bag identical to the ones he had in his own kit. But it wasn't his.

"Well, that's peculiar." He muttered to himself. The next thing he knew an unknown figure reached around him from behind and covered his mouth was covered in a damp cloth. Nick tried to struggle but the figure had too great a grip on him. And within moments of breathing in the Chloroform laden cloth, Nick was out cold.


	67. How?

**HOW?**

Phoebe furrowed her brow as she hung up her parents' home phone. She'd tried calling Nick and his phone was dead. She didn't need to talk to him but she wanted to leave him a voicemail message letting him know she'd safely arrived in Miami and was now with Jack and her mother.

"Can steaks cook in the oven?" Jack asked Phoebe as she came into the room. When she didn't answer him he looked over and saw her face. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"No; nothing." Phoebe smiled at him as she hung the phone back in its cradle. "Nick's not answering...but he's probably just busy."

"Well of course he is." Jack tutted her. "He's got a hard job." He helped himself to some of the appetizers Penny had laid out.

"I know, Jack, we have the _same_ job." Phoebe reminded him.

"Ow." Jack hissed as he poked his mouth with the toothpick. "Why serve food on such a sharp stick?"

"Good question, Jack." Phoebe nodded at him as she slid herself into a bar stool. She rested her head in her hands, trying to remember the last time her calls to Nick had gone unanswered for so long...

**xxx**

Catherine's mind was whirring at a mile a minute. Nick's disappearance was the lab's number one priority and she was taking extra care to make sure everything that could be done was being done to find Nick and bring him back safely. She arrived at the morgue to meet with Doc Robbins who had the intestines from the crime scene laid out in front of him. "What've you got, Doc?" She asked as she came in.

"Well, there are a lot of intestines here," Robbins told her. "But no appendix, which made sense when I saw this." He lifted up one end of the intestines. "A cecum."

Catherine nodded, now knowing where the intestines had come from. "Dog entrails.

"Yeah." Robbins agreed.

"That's not going to help." Catherine muttered as she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry. Catherine." Robbins called after her. "Er, has Nick's family been informed?"

Catherine turned back to him. "No, that would be my job." She told him sadly. With that she left and headed back to the lab. On the way she ran into Greg.

"Catherine, glad I found you." He said in an urgent voice. "Phoebe called."

"What? When?" Catherine asked hurriedly. "Did you tell her what happened?"

"No, no," Greg shook his head. "She didn't call me. She left a message at the front desk a couple of hours ago, wanted Nick to know she got to Miami alright."

Catherine sighed and rubbed her temple. "Did you call her back?"

"Heard that was your job." Greg mumbled sadly.

Catherine comfortingly squeezed Greg's shoulder and headed into her office. She shut the door and retrieved Nick's parent's phone number from his file. But Phoebe's number she knew of by heart. Catherine picked up the phone and dialed her friend's number. If she was Phoebe, she'd want to know.

**xxx**

Only when Phoebe woke up did she realize she'd fallen asleep on the fold out couch, the high-pitched ring of her cell waking her out of a comfortable sleep. She could hear her family having breakfast on the porch laughing and clanging plates and cups around. She checked her watch; it was early morning. Nick should be here by now; he always woke her up when he came in. _Maybe he got held up in Vegas?_ Phoebe thought as she sat up wiped the corner of her mouth and answered her phone. "Hello?" she answered tiredly without checking the caller ID.

"Phoebe?" Catherine's harried voice came over the line.

"Cath?" Phoebe yawned and grabbed for the glass of water on the bedside table. "What's up?"

There was a long pause before Catherine answered. "Something happened...with Nick."

Phoebe's heart started beating in her throat. "What do you mean?" She asked in a shaky voice.

Out on the porch, Jack was in the middle of telling a story about his car when a loud crash from inside the house made everyone stop. "Phoebe?" Penny called to her daughter. "Are you alright?" she didn't get an answer. "Phoebe?!" She jumped to her feet and ran into the living room. Jack was right behind her.

Phoebe was standing up with the shattered glass of her cup scattered on the tiles around her feet. She turned to her family, her phone still clutched in her hand.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Jack asked her.

"I have to go back to Vegas." She said tearfully. "Right now."

**xxx**

Grissom and his team stared helplessly at the screen in the AV lab. After searching through all Nick's evidence of the case and revisiting his unsolved cases to find someone who may have a grudge on him and coming up with nothing; they searched the cameras around the streets of the crime scene. Warrick found a white Ford matching the treads from the crime scene heading East but it went off the grid of the available footage. They'd also discovered that Nick had been drugged 'old school', with an ether soaked rag. There were no prints or DNA on the pre-bagged coffee cup from the scene so that, too, was deemed a dead end. It was at this time a package had arrived at the CSI headquarters claiming to be about Nick. Inside was a tape cassette and a USB device. The tape had been a trick, "Outside Chance" by The Turtles. It was a song that culprit wanted playing when Grissom and his team saw what was on the USB. A message came onto the screen:

ONE MILLION DOLLARS IN 12 HOURS.  
OR THE CSI DIES.  
DROP-OFF INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW.  
AND NOW FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE  
YOU CAN ONLY WATCH

When Grissom clicked the final line; a new window popped up. A live camera feed into a coffin. Inside the coffin was Nick. A light shone in his face making him squint. A timer began ticking as the CSI's watched and the song continued to play.

11:59.59

Nick was panting and sweating. He looked terrified, dazed and confused. He started pushing on the sides of the box; hoping for some give but it wouldn't budge. He helplessly pounded his fists against it with no result. He started screaming hysterically, thrashing around trying desperately to escape. Sara, Greg, Catherine, Warrick and Grissom all watched on in horror as their friend struggled in fear.

"I don't think he knows we can see him." Catherine spoke first.

"How can we be sure it's a live feed?" Sara asked.

"We've got to assume that it is." Warrick muttered.

Grissom was sitting at a workbench working out the math. "The space in that box looks like 2x2x6, which would be 24 cubic feet." He punched some buttons the calculator in front of him. "That would hold approximately 600 liters of air. If you figure half a liter per breath." He checked his own watch and timed his own breathing. "Slow breathing…maybe 12 breaths per minute. Panic breathing would be, what, twice  
that much?" He glanced at the monitor and watched Nick wipe sweat off his brow. He was breathing hard. "Well, if the math is right, he's got about an hour and 15 minutes of air left in that box."

Catherine cocked her head at Grissom. "But if they're going to keep him alive for 12 hours, it must mean that he's got an additional air supply."

All of a sudden the feed went dead and all the team saw was blackness.

"We lost the feed." Greg said worriedly.

Warrick re-clicked the 'You Can Only Watch' link and the feed came back on. Nick again squinted at the brightness of the light. "Looks like a live feed to me. I say we keep the light on." He said.

**xxx**

In the meantime, Brass had interrogated the delivery boy who'd delivered the package. He'd coughed up an address where he'd picked it up from out on Viking Circle. He said there was no one there; that the package had just been sitting there with money taped to it. Brass had taken a team to the address. All they found was a fat drunk asleep in his chair stewing in his own filth. Brass and Grissom deduced it was a fake address because the culprit new the CSI's would chase it down.

It was on his way to his office to speak with Nick's parents that Grissom overheard the news he had already been told; that the city was not going to finance the ransom since it was against its policy of not negotiating with terrorists. Sighing deeply, Gil entered his office to see Catherine sitting with Judge Bill Stokes and his wife, Jillian.

"Your Honor. Mrs. Stokes." Gil greeted them as he sat at his desk. "I'm, uh, sorry that we're meeting under these circumstances."

"Have you been able to make contact with the animals who took my son?" The Judge asked, very clearly trying to keep his worry from his voice.

"No, we haven't yet, but ... they should be contacting us in roughly four hours." Catherine answered as she stood next to Grissom behind his desk.

Jillian, tears and terror evident on her face, spoke next. "We were able to rustle up 20,000 cash. Our bank's prepared to wire another 100,000. Now, we can sell the cars. We can hock the ranch...we can make the number," She started to get choked up. "But it's gonna take at least another day."

"Judge Stokes ..." Grissom started carefully.

Jillian pulled a thick envelope out of her purse and slid it across the table towards Catherine and Grissom. "Can we give them the money we have now?" She asked. "Try to buy more time?

"I don't think that will help." Grissom admitted.

"Has Phoebe been informed?" Judge Stokes asked.

"I phoned her a few hours ago." Catherine assured them. "She should be here soon."

"There's got to be something we can do." Judge Stokes clutched his wife's hand.

"You've already done it by coming here, by showing your support ..." Catherine told them; wondering how she'd react if she were in their position and Lindsey were in that box.

"We're not here to show support. We're here to get Nick home." Jillian told her with tear filled eyes.

"We're not sure who has your son," Grissom admitted painfully. "Or why."

"Well ... what the hell do you know?" The Judge snapped.

"Very little." Grissom answered truthfully.

"Let's just cut to the gist." His strong jaw quivered. "What proof do you have that my boy's still alive?"

**xxx**

As Catherine and Grissom took Judge and Mrs. Stokes to see the live feed, Phoebe came bursting through the CSI hallway passed the front desk until she saw Sara and Greg together in the break room. She stopped at the door, barely catching her breath. "Where is he?" She demanded.

Greg and Sara got to their feet. "Phoebe, we-" Sara started.

"Where is he?!" She screamed so loud everyone around her turned and stared. "Tell me where he is!"

Judge Stokes and Mrs. Stokes were staring silently at the monitor with Grissom and Catherine nearby as Phoebe appeared at the door with Sara and Greg just behind her. No one saw her, she just kept to the shadows and stared at Nick on the screen and covered her mouth in sheer horror. His face was tired and strained. He looked weak and scared. He needed her. It was all too much for Mrs. Stokes who disappeared out of the room before she saw Phoebe behind her.

"Pancho ..." The Judge said to his son. "What the hell you got yourself into?" He, too, was overcome and exited after his wife.

"Phoebe." Catherine spotted her in the shadows.

Phoebe didn't reply; she just moved closer to the screen. Her mouth was hanging open and her vision was blurred with tears. She blinked to clear them and saw the timer on the screen showing _04:01:28_ and counting.

Catherine, eyes steely with resolve, stormed out of the room and down the hall. Grissom came up behind Phoebe and put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get him back." He assured her. She could only nod once in reply. She managed to close her mouth by holding it shut with her hand. _How could this happen?_ She thought to herself. They were supposed to be spending a carefree week in Miami with her family and now Nick could die. It seemed like fate was messing with her; she'd always thought Nick was too good to be true. Maybe this was someone's sick way of telling her she didn't deserve him. With a gasp, Phoebe turned on her heel and left the room, pushing past Greg and Sara as she left. She headed straight for the locker room where she knew there would be no prying eyes and ducked into a corner where she lent against the wall.

"Phoebe?" A husky, worried voice called to her.

Looking up, Phoebe saw she wasn't alone in the room. Warrick was at his locker looking as terrible as Phoebe felt. "Warrick." She called to him as she walked towards him ready to break. She shattered into heartbroken sobs the second he clasped his firm arms around her.

**xxx**


	68. High Demand

**HIGH DEMAND**

"What do you mean you won't pay it?!" Phoebe hollered at Ecklie as she stood before him in his office.

"Phoebe, this is not personal," Ecklie told her honestly. "Believe me I tried everything with Undersheriff McKeen to get him to agree, I know the lab could get the money if we tried, but he thinks that would cut back on the service to the taxpayers." He shook his head uselessly. He didn't add that the only advice the Undersheriff gave him was to get his people ready for a funeral.

"My family and Nick's family can get a million dollars." Phoebe lent over his desk towards him. "You can't say no…you can't…" She felt herself choking up. "You can't leave him out there!"

"I understand-"

"You don't understand crap!" She snapped at him. "Great job protecting the lab." She sneered as she turned on her heel and headed out of his office almost colliding with Catherine.

"Phoebe." Catherine said as she clutched a large duffel bag in her hands. "I got the money." She looked hopefully at her. "We'll get him back."

"Where'd you get a million dollars?" Phoebe asked.

"Sam Braun." She told her. "Just gotta clear it with Gil; wanna come?"

"No; I'm gonna stay with Nick." Phoebe replied. Catherine nodded and they parted ways. Phoebe headed into the AV lab where Warrick was watching Nick on the monitor. "How is he?" she asked as she slid into the chair beside him.

"About the same." Warrick answered. "I dunno if that's a good thing or a bad thing." He glanced over at her. "How are you?"

Phoebe could only shake her head in reply as she stared up at Nick. She couldn't imagine what he was going through. There was no speaker into the box; she didn't know if he could hear anything or not. She didn't know what would be worse. Nick headed dead silence. All of a sudden the light went off in the box but Phoebe simply clicked the WATCH button again and the feed came back. Nick writhed in agony at the brightness of the light and screamed something inaudible. Phoebe and Warrick sat in silence for almost an hour just watching their partner.

"The drop off was a bust," Greg said from the doorway soon after. "Literally."

"What's that mean?" Warrick asked swigging back the remains of his coffee.

"It was a trick. Grissom took the money there, the guy was waiting. Blew himself to shreds." Greg said looking very depressed.

"What?" Phoebe turned in her seat. "Is Grissom ok?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Sara found a thumb at the scene but no hits in the database." Greg shrugged apologetically at Phoebe. "Sorry."

Phoebe shook her head and smiled at him, letting him know it wasn't his fault. Offering to get them more coffee, Greg left Phoebe and Warrick alone.

"We were supposed to be in Miami." Phoebe found herself mumbling under her breath as Nick tiredly closed his eyes.

"I should've taken that case." Warrick muttered in much the same way as the feed died again. This time Warrick clicked the WATCH button and it came back. Nick again looked distraught at the light and began panting again. All of a sudden he started moving, reaching for something in his pocket.

"What's he doing?" Phoebe furrowed her brow as she watched her boyfriend. She watched as Nick pulled a pack of gum out of his jeans, unwrap a piece and start chewing it. A few moments later, he removed the gum from his mouth, pulled it into two pieces and pressed each one into each of his ears.

"What are you doing, Nicky…?" Warrick folded his arms and lent back in his chair.

Suddenly; the very obvious shape of a gun came across the feed clasped in Nick's hands.

"Oh God." Phoebe covered her mouth with her hands as fresh tears welled in her eyes.

"What are you doing, Nicky?" Warrick rose to his feet; very alarmed.

Phoebe, too, got up on her feet and watched as Nick clutched the gun to his chest pointing dangerously close to his chin. "Oh, no, no, honey, please don't do this…"

"Don't do it, Nicky!" Warrick yelled at the monitor with frantic tears in his eyes as Nick lifted the gun closer to his face.

Then there was a bright flash and everything went black.

Phoebe and Warrick both jumped back.

"You son of bitch!!" Warrick screamed at the monitor.

"Oh my God," Phoebe started hyperventilating. "Oh, no, no, no…you bastard…you BASTARD!!" She screamed backing away from the monitor.

"Wait, Pheebs, look," Warrick said; his eyes glued to the screen as the green hue of a glow stick suddenly illuminated Nick's gleeful face. "He's alive…" He laughed with relief. "He's still alive." He grabbed for Phoebe beside him and pulled her under his arm. "He's still alive."

Phoebe panted into Warrick's shoulder; her eyes not leaving Nick. Now she understood why he'd been so irritated every time they hit the button. "It was connected to the light…" She said. "The button…when the feed died it turned the light off…we turned it back on and made it worse for him."

It took ten minutes of chatting with Archie to figure it out. He and Phoebe talked to Grissom while Warrick took a few minutes to himself. "The light and the fan must have been running off the same battery." Archie was saying to Grissom.

"Well, at least Nicky's keeping it together." Gil said to Phoebe. "That's good. What about the web cam trace?"

"Signal's running through an anonymizer." Archie explained. "Different ISP each time we click the button. But I think I've got a handle on the pattern. I'm getting closer."

"Gil!" Sara called from the hallway. "Mia got something off the thumb."

"What?" Grissom got to his feet.

"She ran the DNA through CODIS looking for a straight up match, no luck, but she got a partial match to a Kelly Gordon." Sara looked absolutely gleeful. "Based on her age I'm guessing it's the guy's daughter." She and Grissom headed towards his office with Phoebe at their heels.

"Well, where is she?" Phoebe asked.

The glee left Sara's eyes as she answered. "Currently in state prison serving year three of a five-year sentence for accessory to murder." She rummaged through her file on Kelly Gordon and pulled out a map of the girl's crime scene. "The address of her crime scene is 625 Viking Circle. That's the same place where the messenger picked up the package. It wasn't random."

Grissom sighed as he glanced over the papers on the crime scene. His heart skipped a beat when he read the list of collected evidence. One of the items was a Styrofoam cup. "Neither was the Styrofoam cup." He said to Sara and Phoebe. "Call Brass; tell him we need to get to the State prison; now."

"I wanna come." Phoebe spoke up.

"Can't allow it even if I wanted to, Phoebe." Grissom told her. "And no way Brass would let you in there. Stay here with Nick; that's where he needs you."

Too angry and tired to argue; Phoebe just nodded and headed back into the AV lab where Archie was concernedly watching Nick. Phoebe liked Archie a lot; he was very cool yet very nerdy at the same time. One of the few people she knew who could pull it off. Phoebe slid back into her seat and saw Nick's mouth moving. It took her a second to realize he was singing. "Where'd Warrick go?" Phoebe asked Archie as he slid her a fresh cup of coffee.

"Back at the crime scene with Catherine and Greg." Archie answered. "He was making himself crazy."

"I know the feeling." Phoebe mumbled as Nick broke another glow stick. "Wait, he's moving again…" She got to her feet as Nick started hollering out at something. He then started banging on the roof of the box. "Did they find him? Is that them?"

"I dunno." Archie replied. "They would've called first, wouldn't they…?"

"Oh God…" Phoebe could see something behind Nick's head. "The glass is breaking…under the weight of the dirt; the glass is breaking." She sank to her seat. "He's gonna be buried alive…"

Both Archie and Phoebe's pagers went off but he offered to go and see what the heck was going on so Phoebe was left alone just staring at a more-frantic-by-the-second Nick with no way of helping him.

**xxx**

Nick glanced down at his feet. They were partially covered in dirt thanks to the Plexiglas breaking around him. His mind was clearer than it had been in the past few hours. He'd heard about it a lot in his job; a sense of calm that comes over a person when they know the end is near. Nick could feel it. If this box caved; he'd suffocate on the dirt. But if he was going to die; he had something to do before he went. He picked up the tape recorder that had played that oh-so-daunting message to him when he'd woken up in this box, rewound the tape and hit record.

"My name is Nick Stokes." He said. If anybody finds this tape, turn it in to the Las Vegas ... PD. There should be a reward." He tried to take a deep breath. "Mom…Cisco…" His voice cracked. "Well, this is a lousy way to say good-bye, but it's all I've got." His voice shook. "I love you…you raised me right…and I'm gonna miss you."

**xxx**

In the AV lab, Phoebe had been joined by Grissom. They were both watching Nick on two smaller monitors hooked up to the larger one. Phoebe could see Nick's mouth moving as he spoke into the tape recorder but she didn't know what he was doing. Her boss, on the other hand, seemed to. "Gris; what's he doing?" Phoebe asked. He looked up at her but didn't seem to want to reply. "Please, Gil; you can understand him…what's he doing?"

Grissom sighed. "He's saying goodbye."

**xxx**

"Phoebe…" Nick's throat was tight and tears were filling his eyes. "Pheebs…I...I just..." He took a deep breath and composed himself. "I love you. I've been in love with you since the second I saw you…you are…" He gasped a little. "The best thing that's ever happened to me…and I'm so sorry I never told you that." He managed to even his voice. "As for the rest of you guys, I know you did the best you could to find me."

**xxx**

Phoebe held her hand up to the monitor she was watching from. She'd never really understood what people meant when they said they 'ached' for another person. Until this moment. She'd never wanted to touch Nick more in her life then she did at that second. Instead she had to watch as he got more and more emotional reciting his farewells. She overheard Grissom mumble something quietly under his breath. She smiled to herself then glanced back at Nick. He looked like he was having a fit.

"Oh my God." Phoebe looked up at the larger monitor and watched as Nick seemed to be scratching at his own skin. "What's happening to him!?" Hearing the noise; Archie and Sara ran in from the other room.

"Oh, God." Sara breathed. "He's losing it!"

"He's going into convulsions." Archie breathed; helplessly looking on as Nick fell into full-mode panic.

"What happened?!" Phoebe yelled tearfully at Grissom whose eyes were still on his monitor.

Grissom looked just as confused as she did. "Wait…" He spotted something on the camera lens. Clicking the mouse; Grissom froze the footage on his monitor and zoomed in the focus. It was an ant on the inside of the coffin. "Ants."

Sara, Phoebe and Archie all stared at Grissom then up at Nick. "Oh God…" Phoebe realized as Nick thrashed. "He's not panicking; he's screaming." She held her hands to the back of her head as a terrifying feeling gripped her insides.

"My God," Grissom breathed in horror. "He's being eaten alive."

**xxx**


	69. Danger At Six Feet Under

**DANGER AT SIX FEET UNDER**

Phoebe was forced to watch Nick get eaten alive for another twenty minutes before Grissom found what he was looking for. He'd been watching the footage on a smaller computer nearby with his finger on the mouse ready to pause when an ant crawled across the camera. He hoped that if he saw the ant, he could narrow down the species and perhaps find out where they lived.

The ants were all over Nick's body. He'd torn up the latex gloves he'd been wearing and shoved tight balls of them up his nose to keep the ants out. Then he tried to keep as still as possible.

"That's it, Nicky." Grissom mumbled approvingly. "Stay still. They won't bite. As much." He added as he glanced over at Phoebe. She was standing right in front of the main screen kneading her knuckles together. "Phoebe; you should go get some air." He told her. He hadn't seen her leave the lab since she'd arrived back.

"I'm ok." She mumbled back.

"I wasn't asking." He said. "Go. I'll page you the second I have something."

Sighing, Phoebe turned and headed out of the lab. She wandered towards the break room and saw Judge and Mrs. Stokes sitting there looking as worried as she felt. She'd been so focused on Nick for the last few hours she hadn't spoken to them yet.

"Phoebe," Jillian rose to her feet and came over to Phoebe with open arms. "I was hoping we'd get to see you." She wrapped Phoebe up in a warm hug. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Me too." Phoebe muttered back as grateful tears appeared in her eyes.

"Hello, sweetheart." Bill Stokes greeted her with a reassuring embrace. "How are you?"

"Honestly...I don't know…" Phoebe admitted.

"How is he?" Jillian asked with weepy eyes.

"Hanging in there." Phoebe tried to assure them. "You can go in and see him…"

Jillian shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. "I can't…he's…my boy…" She was overcome with tears and had to go and sit down.

"Phoebe," Judge Stokes sighed. "Those other CSI's; they're just doing their job but they won't tell us anything." He cupped Phoebe's head in his hands. "I want you to tell me the truth." He squared his jaw to keep his tears from falling. "Do _you_ think they're going to get Nicky out of this?"

Phoebe's heart was racing. "I don't know." She answered with a shrug. "But I have to believe they will." She added with a tearful nod. "I have to."

**xxx**

Catherine glanced over the Plexiglas coffin in the CSI garage trying to find some sort of clue. They'd found this one back at the place where Walter Gordon had blown himself up with a dead dog inside. "This has got to be a prototype." She said to Warrick and Greg who were nearby. "It was probably built to test how long he could keep somebody alive inside."

Greg, who was under the coffin, swabbed the circular holes through the bottom of the coffin. They CSI's hadn't figured out what they meant yet but they were still working. Hodges leaned over and looked more closely at them. "What are those?" he asked.

"I don't know." Greg answered as he got to hit feet.

"All right, based on this battery and what's running off of it," Warrick spoke from the work bench. "And the fact that we kept the damn light on for as long as we did, I figure Nick's got another ninety minutes left, now." He glanced up and saw Phoebe walk passed the garage and back into the AV Lab with Grissom and Sara. Sighing; Warrick set his watch to countdown from 1:30 hours.

Phoebe brought Grissom a cup of coffee after she left Judge and Mrs. Stokes but it turned out that he didn't need it. He'd managed to get a snap of one of the ants in the coffin with Nick and held the printout up to Phoebe when she came into the lab.

"Got it." He smiled triumphantly and darted out of the lab for his office.

Phoebe followed him as he confirmed the species in one of his many textbooks (_Solenopsis invicta_) and then called a team meeting. As he spoke, Catherine searched for where the ants might be.

"They're fire ants, very rare in Nevada." He said to everyone. "They don't like our soil. The only places you find them around Vegas are in plant and tree nurseries."

"There's eleven nurseries in the greater Las Vegas area." Catherine said looking up from the computer screen.

Archie had a map of the area spread out in front of him. "Okay, I've got the web cam trace down to here." He drew a large circle in black marker on the map.

"And the data from the black box in Walter Gordon's truck gave us a 23-mile travel radius." Greg added another black circle cutting down the search grid even more.

Warrick grabbed the printout of the nurseries and quickly scanned the list. "Okay, I've got two nurseries within the overlap area. Here and here." He marked two 'X's on the map within the overlapping area of the two circles.

"Wait, wait. Wait, wait." Sara spoke up. "Kelly Gordon, the daughter, worked with plants. Hold on. Hold on." She bolted out of the lab and returned a few seconds later with a folder in her hand. "You guys," She triumphantly pointed at one of the X's. "Nick is here."

**xxx**

Phoebe rode with Warrick up the front of the convoy that was sent to the nursery to find Nick. She kept glancing at Warrick's countdown on his watch. Nick had ten minutes of air left. Warrick pulled his car up behind Grissom and a whole bunch of policeman gathered around as Grissom asked the owner of the nursery where the fire-ant mound was. Then Grissom addressed everyone around him.

"All right, look. Fan out." He ordered. "Look for loose soil. Anything that might've been dug up recently."

"Come on." Warrick grabbed Phoebe's hand and the pair of them took off in one direction with their torches flashing around on the ground searching for disturbed soil.

"Nick?!" Phoebe called; even though she knew she wouldn't get a response.

"He-e-ey!" Catherine's voice rang out from somewhere to Phoebe's left. "I'm picking up the web cam transmitter."

Warrick and Phoebe bolted in the direction of her voice and found her just off the main road clutching a plastic bag which what looked the video transmitter in it. There was a vent pipe sticking out of the ground beside her.

"I found it!" She shouted gleefully at everyone who was running towards her. "This is it! I found him!"

"Nick! Nick, we're here." Catherine yelled through the vent pipe. "Hang on!"

Phoebe fell beside Catherine and started digging with her hands. Warrick was at her side doing the same thing as Catherine kept trying to talk to Nick with no clue if he could even hear her.

**xxx**

Nick was covered in so many bites that all he could feel was a burning sensation all over him. He lay as still as he could for as long as he could but the ants kept biting him. He was sucked into a weird dream where he was on a slab in the coroner's office with Doc Robbins and Dave doing his autopsy. But Nick had his eyes open the entire time and was looking up as both ME's removed things from his body.

Robbins sighed and shook his head. "It's a damn shame they didn't get to him sooner." He said.

"I sure will miss him." Dave added.

"You know, David, I've seen fire ant bites in my time, but never anything like this." Robbins said as he lifted one of Nick's arms to inspect the welts and discolored pustules.

"Do you think he suffered?" Dave asked.

"Do I think he suffered?" Robbins repeated. "Yes. Definitely."

Then the pair of them broke into hysterical laughter. Dave turned around and hit PLAY on the CD player. "Lucky Too" by Bob Neuwirth came on. "It was Christmas in Las Vegas, when the locals take the town ..."

"Would you care to do the "y" incision?" Robbins asked Dave gleefully as he handed him a large butcher's knife.

"Well, "Y" not?" David laughed.

Suddenly, Phoebe was there. "May I?" she asked sweetly.

"Go right ahead." Dave grinned and handed her the knife. She sunk the knife into Nick's chest and sliced into his flesh.

Nick, who still felt as though he was watching the whole thing, didn't flinch as he was cut. Phoebe set the knife aside as Robbins peeled the flesh off Nick's chest open.

"Mind your hands and feet." Robbins said to the others as he started up his saw. He slammed it into Nick's chest and blood spurted all over the three of their smiling faces. "Yes." Robbins nodded appreciatively at his incision. Then he reached right into Nick's chest and yanked out his rib cage. He held it up to David and Phoebe before tossing it aside. "He won't be needing this anymore." Then Robbins untangled Nick's intestines and lungs over to David.

All of a sudden, Judge Bill Stokes was in the room, too. "So, Doctor. How did my son die?" He asked cheerfully. "Anaphylactic shock?"

Phoebe laughed out loud and slapped Bill in the side. "No, no, he didn't live long enough for that."

"COD was asphyxiation." Robbins said happily. "When the blood oxygen drops to less than 16 and the CO2 builds up, there's a rapid loss of consciousness. Death within minutes with no disfiguring physical findings."

"He'll look great at the funeral." Bill nodded. "His mother will appreciate that."

"As will we all." Phoebe sighed happily as she stared down at Nick.

"Good." Robbins grinned as he reached into Nick's chest cavity and pulled out his beating heart. "Your son had a good heart." He said as he handed it to the Judge.

And then Nick woke up.

He was still in the box and his skin was on fire. He was on the verge of losing it. The gun was still firmly gripped in his hand. He didn't want to do it; but he wasn't sure how much more of this Hell he could take. Beside him the fan clunked and shut off. "Oh God…" he groaned. "No, no, no, no…" The ants were biting him all over his face. He lifted the gun up and screamed weakly as he lifted it to his chin.

**xxx**

Phoebe didn't know who handed her the shovel she was using but she was grateful. There was a whole bunch of police and CSI's working together to dig Nick out. Phoebe was sweating all over herself but she didn't care. They were so close. To her left she heard Warrick's watch go off; their time was up. She was about to speak up but then her shovel made contact with something in the dirt. Something hard. "Hey! Hey, I hit something!" she yelled.

"Me too!" Warrick called back as his own shovel hit something. "Keep digging!" He yelled at everyone.

"We got you Nicky!" Catherine shouted down the vent pipe.

Warrick tossed his shovel out of the hole and got down on his knees to clear the dirt away with his hands. He finally saw the clear Perspex of the coffin and cleared it away. "Hey!" He yelled as he banged on the top of the coffin. He could see Nick with a gun pressed to his chin. "We got you, man!" He yelled happily. "Put that down; we got you Nicky!" Warrick furiously scooped the dirt away. "Hold on; just hold on." He finally got a good look at Nick and saw the ants swarming all around him. "Oh my God. We need a fire extinguisher!" He yelled over his shoulder. "Give me that fire extinguisher!"

Greg ran to the back of his SUV and retrieved a fire extinguisher from the back. He bolted back to the coffin where there was a commotion of people scrambling around as Warrick wedged a shovel under the coffin lid just a crack so Greg could fire some short blasts into the coffin. That would freeze the ants and stop them biting Nick.

Phoebe had been yanked out of the hole by Catherine so that Greg could blast the ants. She hadn't seen Nick properly yet. She just caught glimpses of him from where she was. And he couldn't see her. More tears fell from her eyes as she watched.

"Get the paramedics!" Sara called beside Phoebe.

"Hang on. Hang on." Warrick was saying to Nick. "We'll kill those ants, okay? You listen to me." He moved again so Greg could shoot more CO2 into the coffin.

Catherine's phone rang so she regretfully looked away from Nick and answered it. "Willows."

"Yeah. Hey, boss ..." Hodges answered.

"We found him." Catherine interrupted happily. "We're getting him out now."

"That's great. Wai-wait. Don't-don't hang up. Just-just listen." Hodges said hurriedly.

"What? What?" Catherine asked.

"Those dimples on the bottom of the prototype." Hodges continued carefully. "GCMS found traces of semtex on each one."

"You got to be kidding me." She practically gasped.

"What?" Phoebe asked as they were about to open the coffin.

Catherine hung up her phone. "Everyone out of the hole!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "That box is ready to explode!"

"Are you kidding?" Warrick yelled up at her.

"Get out of there now!" She yelled back.

"I'm not leaving without Nick." He yelled back.

"There are charges under the box!" She countered.

"I'm not leaving here without him." He screamed stubbornly.

"Warrick, Catherine's right." Grissom came into view. "Get out of the hole now. I know what we're gonna do. Just trust me." He added.

Warrick looked up at Grissom and Catherine. Slowly, he released his hold on the coffin cover as he looked down at Nick. "I'll be right back, buddy." He told him as he got to his feet and Grissom helped him out.

From where she was, Phoebe could hear Nick pounding on the inside of the coffin. Warrick and Catherine followed Grissom away as he went over his plan. "We need 200 pounds of dirt over here right now, and we're gonna use that backhoe to get it." He said to a bunch of officers. Phoebe watched them all leaving Nick. She knew him too well; he wouldn't handle this. She wiped her eyes; no more crying, and then jumped into the hole. Nick was screaming and banging on it trying desperately to break himself out.

"Nick!" She banged on the coffin. "Nick!!" She screamed. He didn't seem to hear her. "Look at me; you bastard!!" She hollered.

The familiarity of her voice made Nick stop.

"Listen to me." She said firmly as she put her right hand flat against the coffin. "Put your hand on my hand." Nick slowly and carefully, almost as though he thought she might be another dream, put his hand up on her hand. "Good. Now listen." She said making sure she kept eye contact with him. "There may be explosives under the box. They're probably set on pressure switches." She realized. Of course they would be; extra tortured for if they found him. "We need to equalize your body weight before we can pull you out, okay?" Nick didn't give her any indication that he'd heard her. "Nick; nod your head if you understand me." He nodded slowly.

"Okay, we're gonna use the dirt from the backhoe to equalize his weight." Grissom was demanding. "I need a rope and a carabineer."

"All right, honey, we're gonna open the lid and get you out, but I need you to stay lying down." Phoebe said to Nick cautiously. "Okay? Or else you'll blow us all up." Nick nodded. "You understand that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Nick yelped back.

"Do you promise?" Phoebe asked as the backhoe engine was fired up behind her. "Nick; you promise me." She told him in as strong a voice she could muster.

"I promise." Nick cried in a tired voice.

As Catherine and Grissom helped the other officers direct the backhoe towards Nick, Warrick climbed onto the box to help Phoebe open it up. "Don't move." She said to Nick as she knelt beside him.

Warrick counted down from three and the two of them heaved the lid up. Nick let out a loud sob and reached his hand up blindly for someone; anyone. Phoebe grasped his hand tightly, reached into the coffin and placed her hand on Nick's chest. "I know; it's ok. It's ok." She said as buoyant tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm here, I got you." Nick squeezed Phoebe's hand with all his might. "Lay still. Lay still. It's okay. It's okay." She told him quietly as she smiled through her tears.

As the initial wave of panic subsided, Nick calmed down. "Okay, okay." He panted, nodding to Phoebe to assure her that he was ready.

Phoebe looked up over her shoulder at Grissom. "All right!" She yelled.

"Bring that over!" Grissom yelled to the backhoe driver.

As it was driven over towards the hole, Grissom handed Phoebe the carabineer and rope which she secured around Nick's belt buckle. "Ok," Phoebe gripped Nick's hand to her chest. "I'm gonna leave you for just a second, okay?" As she said this his hand gripped hers tightly. "I'll be right back, alright?" She kissed his hand and reluctantly let him go. Warrick helped her up out of the hole and they joined Grissom, Sara, Catherine, Greg and a number of other officers holding the rope that was attached to Nick. "Ok, Nick, I want you to close your eyes and hold your breath!" Phoebe hollered down to him to which he nodded; signaling he was ready.

"Now!" Grissom yelled at the driver.

The driver dropped the dirt into the hole; filling it. Grissom waited a few moments before counting down and yanking on the rope jerking Nick right out of the coffin and the hole where he landed heavily on the ground.

"Nick!" Phoebe hollered but Warrick held her back as the paramedics rushed to her boyfriend's side. Clutching Warrick's arm Phoebe hung back, though it killed her to do so, until he was bundled up safely on a gurney and being wheeled into the back of the ambulance. Phoebe clambered in after him with Warrick and Catherine close behind. Nick reached out so Phoebe instinctively grabbed his hand as she sat by his head. The EMT's shut the ambulance and they headed off for the hospital.

"You came back." Nick said to Phoebe in a scratchy voice.

"Yeah," Phoebe smiled through her tears. "I came back." She cleaned the dirt off his face and kissed his hand firmly. She didn't take her eyes off him for the whole trip to the hospital.

**xxx**

A couple of weeks later, Nick was out of hospital and on leave from work. He had one more thing he wanted to do before he could try to move on. He wanted to visit Kelly Gordon. Phoebe drove the pair of them all the way out into the desert to the Women's Correctional Facility. As they drove, they talked about mundane things. What they wanted for dinner, when they were going to visit Phoebe's parents again, should they get that new cable channel; all the things that Nick, when he'd been in the box, had resigned he'd never get to do again. She had been so wonderful to him throughout this whole ordeal. If he wasn't sure about their relationship before; he damn sure was now.

When they got to the prison; Phoebe and Nick walked inside hand in hand but were separated when Phoebe was told she couldn't go with Nick to visit Kelly. Truth was she didn't care to. She was there for Nick and nothing more.

Nick was led to the interview desks where Kelly Gordon was brought to see him through the window. Nick waved at her a little; tears welling in his eyes at the still fresh emotion of everything. He picked up the phone on the side and motioned to her to do the same.

"You the one?" She asked.

Nick smiled. "Yeah," He cleared his throat. "Yeah, back at you."

"What do you want me to say?" Kelly asked blankly. "I'm sorry?"

"No, you didn't do anything to me." Nick said. "And what your dad did, I ... I guess it's 'cause he loves you so much." Perhaps she didn't want to hear what he had to say or maybe she just didn't believe it; but Kelly hung up on Nick and started to leave. "Hey, hey, Kelly." Nick was barely holding it together as he motioned to the phone again. "Pick it up."

Tears in her own eyes, Kelly picked up the phone again.

"In a few years ..." Nick said slowly. "When you get out of here ... don't take it with you."

"That's it?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah." Nick nodded, sniffling. "Yeah, that's it."

Kelly hung up and looked to the guard by the door. "We're done." She stood up and left Nick with the phone in his hand.

"That's it." Nick hung up the phone and wiped his nose. "That's it." He got to his feet and headed straight for Phoebe who was waiting at the door. He went straight over to her and hugged her tightly. "Thank you." He whispered into her air.

"For what?" Phoebe asked pulling away but keeping her hands around him.

Nick brushed her hair out of her face. "Just…thank you."

**xxx**


	70. Recovery

**RECOVERY**

After his ordeal, Nick was given three months of work to recover. He never realized how hard it had been for Phoebe the year before after she'd been kidnapped to be off work for so long. There was literally nothing for Nick to do. He became extremely skilled at online Solitaire and Phoebe's cat, Finley, finally seemed to accept him but other than that; he was just itching to get back to work. It didn't help that Phoebe was always coming home at odd hours from exciting cases or staying late at the lab to get results. It made Nick miss his work even more. Although; he did love how overly sweet Phoebe was being to him. She was always sending him messages from work and making him dinner. He liked being taken care of. But at the same time; he wanted to be back to his old self again.

**xxx**

Phoebe slammed her locker closed and slung her shoulder bag over her head. She'd been at the lab since midnight but was finally going home at lunchtime. Catherine joined her in the locker room just coming off of her break. She'd been at the lab that night as long as Phoebe but her case just kept getting more involved.

"Heading out?" Catherine greeted her as she opened her locker.

"Finally." Phoebe replied as she searched for her car keys in her bag. "Might get home in time for Oprah."

"How's Nick doing?" Catherine asked, sliding off her jacket.

"Better." Phoebe nodded after locating her keys at the bottom of her bag. "Bored. He can't wait to get back to work."

"He starts next week, right?" Catherine asked.

Phoebe nodded again. "Yeah." She said apprehensively.

"Don't worry," Catherine told her. "Ecklie gave us the team back, sure, but that doesn't mean you and Nick are gonna be excluded from cases just because you're in a relationship." She smiled. "We can't sign you onto the same cases but should we be tapped out it's not like they're _not_ gonna call you just because you guys are dating." She chuckled.

"Thanks, Cath." Phoebe replied in a quiet voice.

Catherine glanced at her. "You ok?"

"Yeah; fine." Phoebe assured her.

"Is Nick really ok?" Catherine asked folding her arms.

"Yeah, he is." Phoebe confirmed. "But…I mean…if it were up to me I'd make him take, like, a year off." She sighed. "I dunno...he just...he was buried alive. That has to be one of the scariest things ever…"

"Does he not talk about it?" Catherine asked.

"No; he does." Phoebe said chewing on her lip. "But...he has nightmares." She sat down on the bench between the rows of lockers. "I wake up in the middle of the night and he's...whimpering. And shaking." She shrugged. "When I ask him about them he says he doesn't remember but I know he does. I just…I dunno…" She trailed off.

"He still seeing that therapist?" Catherine asked concernedly.

"Twice a week." Phoebe nodded. "I just wanna help him but…I don't know how."

"When you were kidnapped by Nigel," Catherine brought up carefully. "How did Nick help you?"

Phoebe thought for a moment. "He was...he was just…there." She smiled.

Catherine smiled back. "Well, there you go." She patted her on the back. "That's all he needs."

"Thanks, Cath." Phoebe got to her feet. "Oh, but don't tell him I told you about-"

"Don't worry," Catherine promised. "I won't."

**xxx**

As it turned out; when Nick did get back to work he was fresher than ever. The team all had to work together on a case at a caravan park so Nick wasn't tossed into the deep end on his own. As it turned out; Nick's return wasn't the biggest news of the day. Somehow, unbeknownst to anyone else in the lab, Warrick had gotten married. When Phoebe found out, she tracked Warrick down to the locker room and cornered him.

"You get married and I'm not invited?" She snapped. "What's with that?"

Warrick laughed. "Pheebs-"

"Oh, don't you _Pheebs_ me, baby, we are _way_ past that!" She yelped in a shrill voice.

Warrick laughed again. "You've gone ultra-sonic again," He told her. "Can I explain?"

"You can try." Phoebe huffed as she lent heavily against the lockers.

"Ok, look…" Warrick started. "With everything that happened with Nick I started to realize how short life is, y'know? It's almost shorter than we wanna believe." He sighed. "So I've been seeing this girl, Tina, for awhile…asked her to marry me and she said yes." He smiled. "Come on; didn't what happened make you and Nick re-evaluate some stuff?"

"Yeh, we considered getting a dog." Phoebe countered. "Then decided against it because we weren't ready for the commitment but _you_…you got married."

"I know." He nodded happily.

Phoebe groaned. "I can't stay mad at that face." She opened her arms. "You come here to me." She wrapped Warrick up in a hug. "I am happy for you, Warrick. Really. Just wouldn't have minded being in the loop on this one."

"We talking Warrick's quickie Vegas wedding?" Nick asked with a smirk as he joined them.

"You ready to take a piece outta me, too?" Warrick grinned at his friend.

"Naw, man, I think it's great." Nick slapped him a high five and pulled him into a manly hug, slapping him a few times on the back. "I just wish I knew more about Tina. Can she cook? Is she a good cook?"

"What do you care?" Phoebe asked. "I can't cook."

"Yes, you can." Nick told her with a smirk. "What about that righteous Mac & Cheese you make?"

"Oh yeah," Phoebe remembered fondly. "I do rock that one."

"Yeh; Tina can cook." Warrick told them.

"We're all off now, right?" Nick asked the two of them to which they both nodded. "Pheebs and I are taking you out, man." He slapped Warrick on the shoulder. "Breakfast at the Pepper Mill; whaddya say?"

"Hell yeah." Warrick agreed. "Sounds good."

"Hey, Grissom." Nick called to his Boss as he spotted him heading passed the locker room. "We're taking Warrick to the Pepper Mill to celebrate his marriage."

"And to condemn his elopement." Phoebe added. "Which I am still bitter about, just so you know." She smirked at Warrick. "You in?" She nodded at Grissom.

"Did you invite your wife?" Grissom asked Warrick with a wry smile.

"I don't think I'm ready to subject her to the crew just yet." Warrick replied.

"Oh, that is complete crap." Phoebe jibed at him as Grissom continued on to his office. "Come on; please can we meet her?"

"No." Warrick answered firmly. "Why do you wanna so bad?"

"'Cos." Phoebe replied with a shrug.

"I'm gonna need more than that." Warrick smiled.

"Ok, _be­-_cause." Phoebe quipped as Warrick rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, that was funny." She assured him as the three of them headed out of the locker room.

The team managed to get together that morning for a breakfast and a few laughs before they all turned in at around lunch time.

"Warrick's married." Nick said for the millionth time as he let Phoebe and himself into the house. "Married...it's insane."

"Meh, its Vegas." Phoebe replied as she kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch.

"Still." Nick flopped beside her and lent against her shoulder. "They've been together what? A couple of months? And they knew they were...like...soul mates."

"You believe in soul mates?" Phoebe cocked her head at him.

Nick shrugged. "You don't?"

Phoebe shook her head. "No." She said simply. "I don't think you and I were 'destined' to be together or that everything else in life will just fall into place because we _are_ together." She smiled. "I think we met, became really good friends and we fell in love. And we work really hard to keep everything together." She shook her head. "Call me a cynic if you want-"

"I don't think you're cynical." Nick told her with a smile. "I think you're right." He lent up and kissed her forehead. "So where are you on marriage?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked shuffling down in her seat so her head was leaning against Nick's.

"I mean, you've never struck me as the White Wedding type." He said.

"Spot on, there." She replied. "I dunno...I guess it's never been a dream of mine. I wasn't one of those little girls who fantasized about her wedding as a kid or cut out pictures in magazines and stuff." She stifled a yawn. "I guess I just don't see the point." She snuggled into Nick's neck to get more comfortable.

"Yeah..." Nick replied vaguely. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and then got to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower." He headed around the couch then lent over the back and kissed the top of Phoebe's head.

"Ok." She replied, wondering what she'd said to make him bolt so fast. Then she realized and felt like a total moron. Nick was a romantic down to the bone. And he was definitely in the pro-marriage camp. What she'd just said must have dashed some kind of dream he'd had for them. The actual truth was, if Nick proposed to Phoebe, she'd say yes without a second thought. Her blatantly negative thoughts on marriage she'd just spewed to him were purely generalities. She'd said them without thinking; something she was prone to do.

**xxx**

Phoebe worried about what she'd said for the next two weeks; even though Nick didn't seem to change at all. Everything was the same between them. Even when she got two week's vacation time off and Nick wasn't able to get the time off work; things were still fine between them. Phoebe was starting to think that it was all in her head; that maybe this wedding stuff was screwing with her mind, not Nick's. He certainly hadn't said anything more about it.

For her vacation, Phoebe went back to Miami to visit with her mother and step-father. Jack was as thrilled to see her as he always was and somehow managed to wrangle her into helping him with his game room. Phoebe's mother, Penny, had finally caved and let Jack by a billiard table so now he was converting the basement into what Jack liked to call his 'Chillaxing Room'.

While Phoebe was away, she talked to Nick every day or so. He was the one who told her about a shootout involving Captain Brass and Detective Sophia Curtis where an officer had been shot. Nick told Phoebe that Sophia originally thought it was her bullet that killed him; but it turned out to be Jim's. He'd taken it pretty rough. Phoebe called him once or twice but he wasn't all that talkative.

Two weeks of painting walls, moving furniture, carpeting the floor then removing it to lay down floorboards, Phoebe was happy to get back to Vegas. Nick had left her a welcome home note that also said the lab was tapped out and he'd had to go in on his day off. Phoebe had barely had a chance to unpack when her cell phone rang. It was Grissom.

"Welcome home." He said to her when she answered.

"Why do I know you didn't just call to say that?" Phoebe asked.

"We're stretched way too thin," Grissom told her. "Nick and Sara are out in Henderson; apparent double homicide of a husband and wife."

Phoebe sighed. "Alright, fine," she agreed. She'd rather not work on her day off, but she would get to see Nick so it wasn't all bad. "What's the address?"

"I'll send it in a text." Grissom told her. "Thank you, Phoebe." He added.

"Yeah, yeah." She smirked and hung up her phone. Her cat Finley welcomed her home by slinking against her legs. "Don't get too comfortable, buddy." Phoebe told him as she got to her feet. "Mummy's gotta go earn the big bucks."

**xxx**

Sara drove herself and Nick to the crime scene at a modest house out in Henderson. "Phoebe comes back today, right?" Sara asked him as they drove.

"Yeah, yeah," Nick nodded. "This morning. I wanted to make her breakfast but apparently I have to settle on a double homicide."

"Sounds good to me."

Detective Curtis met Sara and Nick as their car pulled into the driveway toward the house. "419 times two." She greeted them as they headed up towards the house. Double murder; husband and wife."

Sara took note of a battered car with Nevada plates. "Beat-up car in a Lexus neighborhood." She mused.

"We ran the plates." Sophia told her. "The registered owner doesn't live here. We're tracking her down."

Nick glanced at the bumper sticker on the rear of the car. "_Bitch on wheels_." He read. "Can't wait to meet her."

"Actually, before you do, you might wanna go round back," Sophia suggested to Nick. "One of your guys has already started."

Nick gave her a weird look but headed around the back of the house anyway. He saw the back of someone in a CSI jacket with a cap on inspecting something on the ground. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so." Phoebe said as she got to her feet, took off her cap and grinned at him. "Hi."

"Hey!" Nick grinned, quickly checked that they were definitely out of sight of any watchful eyes, then hurried over to Phoebe and lifted her off her feet into a huge hug. "I missed you. What're you doing here?"

"Grissom called; turns out neither of us get our day off." She said as she squeezed Nick back and kissed his cheek. "I missed you, too." She pulled away from him and noticed something on his face. She removed her sunglasses and her suspicions were confirmed. "What is that?" she pointed to the caterpillar-esq growth above Nick's lip.

"Oh, that's my mo," Nick said proudly running his hand over his mustache. "You like?"

"No," Phoebe said bluntly. "No, I really don't. I go away for two weeks and you grow that?"

"Yeah, y'know…something different." Nick shrugged.

"No. No!" Phoebe shook her head. "Nick; you're face is perfect. _Perfect_. You don't mess with perfection." She gaped at it. "You look like a porn star."

"Thank you." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry, honey, but…" She cocked her head and stared intently at the growth then shook her head again. "No." She held his chin in her hand. "No." She patted his cheek and then headed inside.

**xxx**


	71. Dog Eat Dog

**DOG EAT DOG**

Phoebe met up with Sara and Sophia in the living room of the house. "Hey Sara." She greeted her friend with a smile.

"Welcome home," Sara nodded at her. "And back to work already."

"I know, lucky me." Phoebe grinned. "Question. I talked to you, what, three times while I was away? Why didn't you tell me he grew that thing on his face?" She nodded her head back at Nick who was coming into the room.

"Slipped my mind." Sara said with a smirk.

"Can we get back to work?" Nick asked them both. "Please?"

"Alarm was triggered at 11:45 P.M." Sophia spoke up from the doorway. "The monitoring company notified PD when the homeowners didn't return their call. Patrol finally arrived at 3:32 A.M."

"Well, residentials are a low priority." Nick said. "They're usually false alarms."

Phoebe sighed as she looked down at the two dead bodies on the floor. "Well, not this one." She mumbled. "We know who they are?" she asked Sophia as she knelt down.

"Michael and Lori Tinsley." Sophia replied. "Kitchen door was open when we arrived. His wallet was in his pocket. Her purse was on the counter. Cards, cash, TV, stereo, it's all still here."

"If this was a robbery, they missed all the good stuff." Nick commented as he looked at the expensive items around him.

"The coroner should be here right now." Sophia said checking her watch. "So, uh, I'm gonna go see what's happened to him." She headed out of the room.

"Looks like she exsanguinated out her jugular." Phoebe said to Sara as she knelt down and joined her at inspecting the bodies.

Nick knelt on his haunches and looked over the male victim. "Abrasion on his forehead. No visible blood." He used tweezers from his vest to pick up some fibers on the victim's clothing. "Blonde hairs on his shirt. Both victims are brunette."

"Blonde hairs on the wife, too." Sara found similar hairs on Lori Tinsley's clothes.

Phoebe checked the wife's hands. "And possible skin scrapings under her fingernails. Maybe she got a piece of her attacker?" She pulled a bindle and scraper from her kit and collected the sample.

Nick was taking some photos of the body and the crime scene. "If her neck was sliced with a knife, it was probably serrated. The wound's too jagged for a straight one."

Phoebe kept processing the wife's body as Sara got to her feet and checked out a cabinet of records that had its door ajar. Nick knelt down again as he spotted a blood drop on the ground. He quickly realized it was a blood trail and started to follow it; snapped photos along the way.

"Check out that record collection." She said to the others. "Alphabetized. Classic rock. Looks like several records have been removed recently." She opened her kit. "I'll dust for prints."

"Smudges in the blood trail." Nick spoke up. "Ovoid shapes suggest directionality. "Satellite stains also suggest suspect moved this direction."

"Judging by these gaps, I'd say entire catalogs are missing." Sara said as the ran her hands along the records in the cabinet.

"There is good money in vinyl." Phoebe told her. "Especially if it's rare and well-preserved. My Dad had a collection of old Elvis records that he sold for over six grand when I was a kid." She paused. "Although if he'd hung onto them they'd be worth a lot more now... but still, who would kill somebody over a bunch of records?"

"Something's missing between the Beach Boys and Billy Joel." Sara spoke up.

"The Beatles." Nick, Sara and Phoebe all chorused in unison.

Nick grinned to himself as he checked the back door latch. "Loose strike. Would have been pretty easy to get in from back here."

"Ooh, I'm ringing." Phoebe got to her feet and took her cell off her hip. The caller ID read 'Brass'. "Jim?" Phoebe answered.

"How's my favourite sweetheart?" He said back.

Phoebe sighed. "What do you need?"

"I'm with Catherine in town; we're on a case of a dumpster guy but not homeless dumpster guy." Brass told her.

"And?" Phoebe pressed.

"And Gil told me he has you, Nick and Sara all at one scene; he said we could steal ya." Brass said.

"Then why didn't he just send me there in the first place?" she muttered mainly to herself. Nick raised his eyebrows at her; asking silently what was going on. She rolled her eyes and smiled. "

"Because he's Grissom." Brass answered simply. "So how 'bout it? Com on; I know you missed me."

"Fine." Phoebe agreed with a begrudging grunt. "I'll be there soon." She glanced up at Nick and couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a little more. "One more thing, Jim," She started. "Did you grow any facial hair while I was away?"

Nick made a face at Phoebe and shook his head at her.

"Uh…no." Brass answered. "Not after I tried a beard and you told me I looked like a hobo."

"Thank you. Be there soon." She hung up her phone.

"You're not funny." Nick told her.

"I respectfully disagree." Phoebe couldn't contain a giggle. "Anyway; I just got transferred to Cath's case." She handed her evidence to Sara. "You two play nice." She pointed between them, picked up her kit and headed outside.

Nick went back to checking over the door. "Sara, do you like my-" He started.

"I'm not getting involved." She answered with a smirk as she headed into the kitchen.

**xxx**

Phoebe met up with Catherine back in the lab and she informed her of the case she was working on. It had appeared to be quite simple but had turned out to be more involved than she'd thought; hence why she'd pulled Phoebe of the Tinsley case. An overweight man was found in a dumpster in the city and Doc Robbins had confirmed that his cause of death was suffocation from his lungs being squashed because his stomach was packed with food. They still hadn't identified him but his large stomach contents were being thoroughly inspected by Hodges. When Catherine and Phoebe entered the lab; he was labelling his various containers with a clothespin pegged to his nose.

"Oh, nice look." Catherine said with a grin as they came in. "That'll guarantee you the chicks."

"Silvery material on your vic's face was Graftobian theatrical makeup." Hodges said with a nasally voice as Catherine and Phoebe started chuckling. "Moonlight Silver is the color."

"Okay, look, I can't stand the smell of hot dogs." Hodges said with a withering look to both of them. "They make me sick."

"So, all this stuff was in the vic's stomach?" Phoebe asked as she glanced over the containers. It looked like a week's worth of food. And the bulk of it wasn't properly digested.

"Among other things." Hodge's told her. "You know what the worst kind of burp is? Hot dog burp. You know, like your dad's just letting them loose, or maybe the ex-girlfriend..." He finally took the peg off his nose. "Well, as you can see, he wasn't much of a chewer, which was very lucky for us. Made it easier to identify the food. Cake, mac and cheese, pretzels, pasta, beef, shrimp, fish and, of course, hot dogs."

" Food normally takes two to four hours to digest, which means he ate all of this in two to four hours before he died?" Phoebe raised her eye brows to Catherine.

"How many hot dogs did he eat?" Catherine asked.

"Approximately twenty." Hodge's said with an unpleasant expression.

"God, ugh." Catherine shook her head. "So…can we narrow down the brand?"

"Hey," Phoebe spoke up as she noticed something weird on the skin of one of the undigested hotdogs. She grabbed a pair of large tweezers and picked it up. "When was the last time you saw a branded logo on a hot dog?"

Catherine inspected the logo. "Looks like those novelty chatter teeth." She frowned. "Weird."

"You think that's weird? Check this out." He grabbed one of his containers and put it in front of them. "This was in his stomach, too."

Phoebe used her tweezers to pull what looked like a small flier out of the container. "_Circus Town Buffet._" She read. "_All-U-Can-Eat._"

**xxx**

Catherine sent Phoebe to the buffet while she went to send Greg on a mission. Phoebe met Brass out the front of the _Circus Town Buffet_.

"There's my fave girl." Brass said with a wide grin as Phoebe climbed out of her car.

"Jim." Phoebe smiled. "I'm sorry about everything that happened while I was gone." She added.

Jim waved a hand at her. "It's ok. I mean, it's rough but," He shrugged. "I'm dealing with it." He smiled. "Let's get to work."

Phoebe nodded and the two of them headed into the buffet. Phoebe noted all the food they had on offer, including a serving dish full of hotdogs, while Brass asked a waitress to get the manager. Manager Ronnie Edwards joined them a few moments later.

"Mr Edwards, do you know this man?" Phoebe pulled a photo of their victim and handed it over to him.

"I know exactly who that is." Ronnie told her. "Jerry Gable. How could I forget him?" He shook his head. "He didn't even wait to sit down; just piled his plate up at the buffet and started eating on his feet." Ronnie handed the picture back to Phoebe. "I called security to kick him out; had a feeling if I didn't stop him he'd eat the whole damn buffet. But by the time my guys arrives; Jerry was gone."

Brass raised his eyebrows. "Kick him out? Sign outside says, "All-U-Can-Eat.""

Ronnie sighed. "Look, he was taking it a little too far."

"Well, he paid, didn't he?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, cash." Ronnie nodded.

"So he still had his wallet." Phoebe mumbled to herself. "Do you have any surveillance on your register?"

"For the $1.99 buffet? That would be a no." Ronnie told her.

"And are those the only hot dogs that you serve?" Phoebe pointed to a tray of hotdogs at the buffet.

"Yeah, we're famous for our cocktail wieners." Ronnie told them with a grin. "You should try one."

Brass winked at Phoebe. "I think we need a couple of cocktails first."

**xxx**

Phoebe and Brass parted ways as she went back to the lab to meet up with Greg. He'd spent the day buying every brand of hotdog in Vegas and comparing them to the ones found in the victim's stomach.

"How's it going, Greg?" Phoebe asked as she came into the lab.

"I have enough hotdogs to last me a year and the lab's not gonna reimburse me for buying all this." He replied bitterly.

"Aw," Phoebe patted him on the back. "That's the price you pay for taking initiative."

"Well, that and one hundred and eighty bucks." Greg deadpanned. "Hey, hold the phone…" He added as he inspected another brand of hotdog more closely. "Found a match."

"Fantastic." Phoebe found the corresponding hotdog packet and read a sticker on the packaging. "_Win A Trip To The Hotdog Eating Tournament in Las Vegas._"

"Hotdog eating tournament?" Nick's voice repeated from the doorway. He'd been walking past and overheard.

"You've heard of it?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, they did a story on them on ESPN the other night." Nick said. "Apparently it's considered a sport now." He shrugged. "Extreme Eating Confederation or something."

Phoebe cocked her head at him. "I'm sorry; I can't take you seriously with that thing on your face." She turned to Greg. "Thanks, Greg. I'll go tell Cath." She walked out of the lab passed Nick with another disapproving shake of the head.

**xxx**

Phoebe met up with Catherine in the parking lot, telling her that they had a lead on Jerry Gable's family and Brass would meet them at the apartment block. On the way there, Catherine told Phoebe that Grissom had discovered their over-eating victim had been born with a condition called Prader-Willi syndrome. A rare genetic disorder that caused ceaseless, uncontrollable excruciating hunger; as if one's stomach was truly a bottomless pit. Sufferers are born with a flawed hypothalamus that inhibited the stomach from telling the brain that it was full. Catherine had followed the hot dog lead which had led her and Brass to the hot dog eating championships. Jerry had taken out third place.

Brass met Catherine and Phoebe in front of the apartment block and informed them of what he'd found about the residents they were looking for. "So I called about a dozen Jerry Gables. One had an answering machine for  
Jerry and Suzie Gable. This apartment is listed to Jerry and Suzie Gable." He showed them both a driver's licence photo. "Here's Suzie." Brass banged loudly on the door with his fist. "Las Vegas Police." He called out.

The door opened and a very worried looking young man answered the door. "Please tell me you found Jerry." He asked.

Brass flashed his badge and the three of them went inside the apartment. Phoebe looked around and noticed all the cabinets had padlocks on them as well as the refrigerator.

"Ok, so who are you?" Brass asked the worried man.

"I'm Susie's boyfriend." He answered.

"All right, Susie's boyfriend, what's your name?" Brass continued.

"Look, I don't have anything else to say."

"Hey, you don't want to give us your name, fine, but you better explain why Jerry's not in this chair." Phoebe asked with a raised eyebrow. The boyfriend didn't say anything.

"All right, look," Catherine took charge. "I'm going to print this restraint. And when I find your fingerprints all over it, I won't need to ask you again."

"Okay, okay, all right." The boyfriend sighed and rubbed the back of his beck. "He escaped. All right? I was supposed to be watching him, and I conked out for a second, and by the time I got up, he was gone from his chair."

"He escaped? So, what, the guy's Houdini?" Brass asked with a coy smile.

"Trust me." The boyfriend said. "He may have been slow, but he was manipulative." He shook his head. "Look, how do you deny a 30-year-old man food? I mean, I felt like I was torturing the poor guy. He asked me to take him to the buffet...I figured what's the harm? All you can eat, right?" He sighed. "My plan was just to drop him off at the buffet while I went back to the sports book. By the time I got back ... oh, man ..." he looked sheepish. "I saw the sign for the hotdog eating contest...first prize was ten grand. I couldn't help myself. I had to sign him up."

"So let me guess -- you blew his winnings at the sports book?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, what was he gonna do with them?" The boyfriend shrugged. "He's been strapped to a damn chair his whole life."

"You know, you managed to supersize a combo of two deadly sins – greed and gluttony." Brass scolded him.  
"Shame on you. So what's he doing in a dumpster?"

"I don't know. Was there food in the dumpster?" The boyfriend chuckled vaguely. "'Cause when we were on our way home, Jerry was still hungry. Wanted to hit up Krispy Kreme. And by the time I could tell him no, he was running off down the street. I looked for him all night."

"Where's Suzie?" Catherine asked.

**xxx**

The boyfriend finally spilled the beans and told Brass that Suzie was in hospital having surgery. Jim sent Phoebe and Catherine to the hospital while he finished up with the boyfriend.

Catherine and Phoebe found Suzie in the recovery ward after surgery on her leg. The introduced themselves before giving her the grave news that her brother was dead.

"I knew I shouldn't have left Jerry with my boyfriend." Suzie said with tearful eyes. "I'd been calling to check in. He wasn't answering. I could tell something was up."

"Why did you leave your brother with somebody you didn't trust?" Phoebe asked.

"There was no one else. I had to get this surgery today or my insurance wasn't going to cover it." Suzie explained.

"Couldn't you have left him with a family member?" Catherine asked.

"We have no family. Our parents died in a car crash years ago." Suzie said with a sniffle.

"What about some kind of professional help?" Phoebe asked.

"Miss Parker, I'm a waitress," Suzie told her. "I ... I don't make much. There's a really nice institution in Summerlin, but it costs a $100,000 a year. And the last babysitter I hired, Jerry beat up trying to get to the fridge. I swear to you, I really tried to take care of my brother. I really ... did the best I could." She turned away, crying.

"Jerry took third place?" Suzie asked with a glint in her eyes.

Catherine nodded. "Yeah." She smiled.

Suzie grinned sadly at the photo. "I bet he had the time of his life."

**xxx**

That night, Phoebe waited up on the bathroom sink while Nick took a shower. When he came out he wasn't at all surprised to see her there but he was surprised to see her twirling a razor between her two forefingers. She gestured for him to come closer to her so she could rest her hands on his damp shoulders.

Nick sighed as he wrapped a towel around his waist. "You hate it _that_ much?" he asked walking over to her and resting his hands on her thighs.

"Nick," She sighed. "I _love_ you...but I _hate_ this thing."

Nick smiled, took her hand and lifted up the razor. "Then get rid of it."

Phoebe could barely contain her glee. "Really?" She didn't even wait for him to answer. She just grabbed the shaving cream and smeared some over his lip. "Ok, say good bye..." She carefully shaved Nick's top lip until all traces of that horrible moustache were gone. "There." She wiped a towel over his face and held his clean shaven chin in her hands. "Beautiful." She kissed him deeply paying extra attention to his top lip. "That's better."

"Oh yeah?" Nick smirked and lifted her off the bench so her legs wrapped around his waist.

Phoebe giggled as he carried her into their bedroom. "First you lost the mo; next you lose the towel." She told him as he kicked the door closed behind them.


	72. Rock & Roll Out

**ROCK & ROLL-OUT**

The grave shift was called the grave shift for a reason; it was hell on the body clock. Even in her sixth year working swing shift in Vegas; Phoebe still hated early morning starts. Especially in the cold. She arrived at the crime scene and made sure to bundle up her scarf and coat before grabbing her kit and getting out of her SUV. Captain Brass met her at the police tape surrounding a collapsible stage that had been set up in the middle of a field.

"What happened here?" Phoebe asked as she glanced around the field. There was garbage and beer cans scattered everywhere; the usual remnants of a rave.

"Local Vegas band," Brass told her. "_Hellraisers_." He shrugged. "Five hundred or so drunk teenagers falling all over each other and slurring along to their music."

"I take it the night is long over." Phoebe asked, noting there weren't any party goers still lingering.

"Spoke to the band's manager, Phil Dex," Brass said checking his notes. "He says last encore was at midnight. Security ushered the last kid's out around three."

Phoebe checked her watch. It was almost five-thirty. "What do we know about the victim?" She asked as Brass directed her to a trailer behind the stage.

"Casey Hendrix, only sixteen," Brass informed Phoebe. "She had her handbag on her."

"With a name like that of course she's a rock chick." Phoebe muttered as she ascended the stairs into the trailer.

The room was musty, dark and covered in alcohol and drug paraphernalia. On the bed towards the back of the trailer was the victim. Greg was already taking photos of her. He gave Phoebe a wave when she came in.

"Hey Greg." Phoebe greeted him. "Coroner release the scene?"

"Course he did. Twenty minutes ago." Greg told her. "I'm not stupid."

Phoebe smirked. "Sorry." She found a clear place to set her kit down and snapped on some latex gloves. "What've you got so far?"

"Looks like overdose." Greg told her. "Needle's still in her vein, tourniquet around her arm...might have gone into cardiac arrest mid-injection."

"There still drugs in the needle?" Phoebe asked with raised eyebrows.

Greg nodded. "Dave put time of death around two hours ago."

"Who called it in?" Phoebe turned back to Brass.

"Joel 'The King' Miller." Brass replied. "Lead singer. Says he came in looking for his band mates and found the victim; called 9-1-1 off his cell right away."

"How many members in this band?" Phoebe asked out of interest.

"Three." Greg spoke up. "Joel; the stand out. Stereotypical lead singer. Loves the screaming fangirls. Pete; the bass player. The quiet; sensitive one of the bunch. Then Lizard, the drummer. Ultimate bad boy; makes no secret of his misspent youth as a drug user."

Phoebe cocked her head at him. "How?" she asked, wondering just where Greg learned this knowledge.

"I might have one of their albums," He smirked over his shoulder. "They have some good songs."

"Well, they knew how to party." Phoebe muttered as she snapped some photos of the drugs laid out on every available space. "It's like a free-for-all in here."

"Found the victim's address in her wallet on her driving permit." Brass told them. "Family's gonna meet us at the morgue to make a positive ID." He headed out of the trailer. "I'll leave you guys to it. Play nice."

"Thanks, Jim." Phoebe told him as she joined Greg at the body. "Pretty girl." She mused as she removed a comb and bindle from her kit and started brushing her hair for evidence.

"They always are." Greg added as he took some more photos.

"ALS?" Phoebe spoke up. Greg nodded and moved away so Phoebe could use the UV light. She scanned Casey up and down but didn't find any fluid on her. Sighing, Phoebe shut off the ALS. "No obvious fluid." She muttered.

"Maybe not on her," Greg spoke up. "But check the bed."

Careful not to move the body; Phoebe turned the ALS back on and started scanning the bed sheets. "Oh yea; jackpot." She murmured as bright blue stains started showing up. "Sperm City."

"Not uncommon in a rock band's trailer." Greg told her. "There's probably fluid all over this place."

"Man, this job is gonna make me a germaphobe." Phoebe mumbled.

"_Gonna_ make?" Greg repeated.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked in reply as she picked up the victim's purse.

"Photographed that when I came in," Greg told her. "She's got an Aladdin's cave of amphetamine treasures in there."

Phoebe let out a low whistle as she pulled out bags of white powder she knew was cocaine and a smaller baggie of clear, glass-like stones. "Crystal meth." She told Greg. "Where would a girl like her score something like this?"

"Band groupies." Greg explained. "There's always someone who knows someone whose cousin is friend's with a dealer."

"Why do I get the feeling you're in your element here?" Phoebe asked him coyly.

"Not in many, many years, Pheebs, I promise." He replied. "But come on; you can't tell me you didn't spend some of your teenage years in good, old Oz smoking the good stuff."

"Perhaps I spent a good year of university half-baked." Phoebe answered. "And I guess one could make the ironic argument that now I spend most days _finding_ drugs when back then I spent so much of my time _hiding_ them..." she shrugged as she gathered the drugs each into evidence bags.

"Hey guys," Dave spoke up as he joined them. "I'm here for the body.

Phoebe and Greg stood aside while David and his people took Casey's body out of the trailer and then Phoebe stripped the bed sheets and collected them in a large evidence bag. She wasn't looking forward to testing all those samples when she got back to the lab but that was the job. Greg collected samples of all the drugs that he could find as well as fingerprints off every surface. Both of them knew they were in for a long day at the lab.

**xxx**

It took Greg and Phoebe four more hours to process the interior and immediate exterior of the trailer before they headed back to the lab. It was the first time Phoebe had been at the lab at morning so she left Greg in charge of their evidence and went to stash her bag and jacket in her locker. She input the combination was checking she had her beeper and phone before she left her bag when something caught her eye on the top shelf. It was practically empty except for a spare shirt, deodorant and CD's she kept forgetting to take home so the breakfast bar with a Post-It note on it stood out. Phoebe grinned as she picked it up.

_Breakfast! Enjoy. Love Nick xx_

"Idiot." Phoebe muttered as she ripped the wrapper off and started eating the bar. A couple of weeks before Nick had asked her what her combination was to see if it was "compatible" with his own. Or so he'd said.

"Morning." Sara spoke up as she came into the locker room. She was looking very fancy in a navy blue pantsuit with her hair pulled up in a bun.

"Ooh, fan-fee," Phoebe said with a mouthful of muesli. "Fancy." She repeated after she'd swallowed.

"Court." Sara shrugged. "Supposed to start at nine but rescheduled 'til midday." She rolled her eyes.

Phoebe nodded and clipped her beeper to her jeans belt. "Go see a movie." She suggested.

Sara laughed. "Why do I get the feeling you've done that before?" She noticed the Post-It on Phoebe's breakfast bar. "What's that?"

"Oh," Phoebe crumpled up the paper and tossed it. "It's Nick's idea for breakfast."

"Ahh," Sara smiled. "How long you two been together now? Feels like forever."

"Ha, no way," Phoebe chuckled. "Um, a year?" She guessed, wracking her brain to figure out the exact date.

Sara laughed. "No way; it's definitely been longer than that. Greg was still in the lab when you two started dating and he's been in the field for over two years."

"No, no way." Phoebe said in disbelief. Although she did remember celebrating more than one anniversary. But she and Nick partied for useless anniversaries. Just last week they'd gone out for a drink in honour of the first ice hockey game they'd seen. "Hang on," She reached for her wallet. "We went to a carnival on our first date and I kept the ticket..." She rifled through one of the hidden compartments of her wallet where she stashed such important items like ticket stubs and free coupons. She found the carnival ticket, ironically it was behind the ticket from the ice hockey game, with the clown holding the balloons; it was extremely faded but if Phoebe held it up under the light she could make out the date. "Oh my God..." She breathed as she read the date. "It's been, like, two and a half years!" she yelped.

Sara was laughing. "How can you not know this?"

"I knew I just didn't realize..." Phoebe stuffed the ticket back in her wallet and shut her locker. "Wow..."

"Are you ok?" Sara asked.

"Yeah!" Phoebe assured her with a grin. "I just...I've never had a relationship last this long before."

"What's that feel like?" Sara asked with a smirk.

Phoebe smiled with genuine happiness. "The best thing ever."


	73. Always

**ALWAYS**

After she ate her breakfast from Nick, Phoebe began the thoroughly _not _enjoyable task of scanning the sheet from the trailer for semen stains. And boy did she hit the jackpot. The sheet was filthy and judging by what she found, Phoebe assumed had never been cleaned. She was labelling the different swabs when Catherine came in. Normally under the supervision of Grissom; Phoebe was surprised to see her.

"Grissom's out on a case at the prison." Catherine explained. "I got the whole lab to myself. Well, the lab consisting of you, Greg, Warrick, Nick and Sara."

"Power trip." Phoebe smirked.

"You betcha." Catherine replied. "So you and Greg are working the Hellraiser's case, right?"

Phoebe nodded. "I went online and looked up some of their songs; I don't understand what the devil they're saying."

Catherine shook her head. "Lindsey's got their whole collection; every song sounds the same to me."

"Wow...how talkback radio are we?" Phoebe deadpanned.

Catherine laughed. "What've we got here?" She gestured at Phoebe's work.

"Semen sheet." Phoebe said as she rolled up the sheet and placed it back in its evidence bag. "On its way to Hodges." She picked up her swabs and walked with Catherine out into the hall.

"Oh, before I forget," Catherine sorted through the paper's she was holding and handed Phoebe an envelope. "Nick's pay check; I forgot to mail it."

"Oh, great." Phoebe stuffed it into her pocket. "Y'know I think I scared him off proposing to me." She suddenly spoke quietly.

"What makes you say that?" Catherine asked.

Phoebe sighed. "It was a couple of weeks ago, we were talking about Warrick's quickie wedding and he asked me what I thought about marriage. So without thinking I gave him my stalk, feminist response of how I don't think it really means anything."

Catherine was a little surprised. "Do you really think that?"

"Cath; half the marriages these days end in divorce." Phoebe said with a shrug.

"Yeah, and the rest stay together." Catherine pointed out.

"And are unhappy or bitter or cheating on each other." Phoebe countered.

"Wow; you're really against this, aren't you?" Catherine chuckled lightly.

"Come on; your marriage didn't last." Phoebe reminded her.

"Yeah, but Eddie was..." She drifted off into the memory. "When I met him it was like this whirlwind thing. He was charming and handsome...treated me like a Queen. We got married, had Lindsey, settled down...and then I realized how horrible we were as a couple." Catherine. "But Phoebe, you and Nick aren't a whirlwind."

"Look..." Phoebe sighed. "I don't think Nick would do any of those things, I'm going off the stats here."

"You're always blabbing about how statistics mean nothing to the individual." Catherine said. "And you're, like, Miss Individual." She shrugged her shoulders. "Since when do you care what the majority think?"

"I don't." Phoebe replied defensively.

"Ok, look." Catherine levelled with her. "Nick is more into marriage than you are, sure. But so what? Pheebs, if it's not gonna work out; it's not gonna work out. Being married has nothing to do with it." She paused. "Do you want to marry Nick?"

"Y'know, I've asked myself that question like a thousand times recently," Phoebe admitted. "And all I can think of is how...sad I'd be if he wasn't in my life."

Catherine touched her shoulder. "Take that as a good sign." She smiled and left Phoebe by the lab door.

More at ease than she had been, Phoebe headed into Hodge's. "Hey." She greeted him.

"Be with you in a moment." He replied as he retrieved a printout. "Although you should be thrilled; I'm working your case right now."

Phoebe crinkled her brow as she tried to remember what Greg had given to him. "Drug results?"

"I know you like to make jokes about my speed," Hodges told her. "But bite your tongue because I have the money." He waved the results in front of her face.

"Tell me what they are before I snap your neck." Phoebe said with a sweet smile.

"Ooh; icy." Hodge's said flirtatiously as Greg sauntered into the lab. "You have a knack for being right on time."

"Come on, Hodges, I used to work in here. I know how long tests take." Greg reminded him. "Although I always allow extra time now that _you_ are running the show." He smirked.

"That's funny." Hodges replied with no humour. "So, the drugs all over the trailer were made from the same chemicals and each ingredient was the same percentage in each sample except one."

"Lemme guess, the sample from the needle in Casey's arm." Greg said.

"Right." Hodge's handed Phoebe the printout. "Found high levels of Sodium dodecyl sulphate mixed with the party drugs."

"Sodium dodecyl sulphate..." Phoebe mused. "Poison found in a bunch of household items."

"Everything from floor cleaner to toothpaste." Hodge's confirmed. "Used for its thickening agent; mixed with the heroin it was like injected a long piece of poisonous rice into her arm; no wonder she died."

"She was a long term addict." Greg spoke up. "She would know if the drugs had been tampered with."

"Yeah, so someone else probably injected her..." Phoebe thought out loud. "In a trailer full of groupies like that, everyone shooting up...there had to be someone in charge; someone dolling out the good stuff."

"And for a band like the Hellraiser's? It'd be someone close knit." Greg spoke up. "I'll get Brass and go chat to the Manager; might be able to convince him to cough up some DNA samples..." He backed out of the lab. "Thanks, Hodges."

"Well, I have a treat for you." Phoebe held up her bag of swabs. "Seminal swabs. DNA match what you can. Enjoy."

"Aren't you sweet?" Hodges took the bag.

**xxx**

As it turned out, the band's manager, Phil Dex was more than forthcoming with DNA samples of all his band members as well as fingerprints. Phoebe and Greg went to collect them all and then brought their results back to the lab. Phoebe went in to the trace lab and started running fingerprints while Greg shuffled the mouth swabs back to Hodges. Going back to her old evidence; Phoebe took out the needle from Casey's arm and dusted it for prints. She found two and collected them. While she worked she let her mind wander back to her conversation with Catherine earlier in the day. Her supervisor had been right; Phoebe didn't care about statistics when it applied to her own life. It was that whole snowflake thing; no two relationships are alike. And what works or doesn't work for one couple won't necessarily be the same for another couple. Plus, marriage meant more to Nick than it did to Phoebe, she really didn't mind so would it be that bad if he proposed and she accepted? Judging by the way he'd reacted to her reaction after Warrick's wedding; she doubted she'd get the chance to answer that question.

The incessant beeping of the computer snapped Phoebe out of her thoughts. She'd been running the prints off the needle and had come up with a match. One was Casey's and the other belonged to the most helpful manager Phoebe had met.

It all unfolded within the next two hours. Phil Dex, once confronted with the evidence, blurted out his crime to Captain Brass. Hodge's had matched Dex's DNA to one of the many samples on the sheet Phoebe had collected but the special thing about his stain was that it was mixed with Casey's DNA. Phil admitted that Casey had threatened to go public with their relationship. And, her being underage, this would have brought horror upon his career. He'd tried to make it look like an overdose but got too clever; had he just injected her with heroin the death may have been ruled accidental overdose. But the added chemical sodium dodecyl sulphate was in the end what sent Phil to jail.

It was very early morning by the time Phoebe got out of the lab. Thankful that she and Nick both had the day off; she let her mind wander over what she'd spend her time off doing. She assumed she'd probably do what she normally did; nothing. Sounded good to her.

She let herself into the house expecting things to be still; instead she was greeted to a scene she expected on a Sunday afternoon. Nick was sitting on the couch eating chips and watching a football game on TV. "Hey."

"Hey, honey." Nick grinned at her. "They're replaying the game."

"Oh, fantastic." Phoebe kicked off her shoes and left her bag at the door then leant over the couch to kiss Nick hello. She showered, got into her favourite flannelette boxer shorts and singlet and joined Nick on the couch to watch the game. It didn't take long for her to catch up. "Don't you drop that ball, you bastard," Phoebe cursed the player on TV. "I will kill you."

"Pheebs, you remember when we were heading to Miami about six months ago?" Nick spoke up. "To see your folks?"

"And our trip was cut short because you were buried alive." Phoebe deadpanned. "Yeah; rings a bell." She stuffed a handful of chips in her mouth. "I said _don't _drop it!" she hollered at the television. "That's it; you're on my list."

"Well...it wasn't just for fun. Not for me, at least." Nick said trying to keep his voice steady.

Phoebe took a swig from her soda and glanced at him. "What are you on about?"

Nick took a deep breath. "I wanted to go down there and ask your mother's permission to do this." He slid off the couch and down onto one knee.

"Oh my God." Phoebe said, genuinely shocked.

"Phoebe..." He started. "I've been wanting to do this for months. I thought it mattered the time and place but then I realized, all that matters is us."

Phoebe couldn't believe what was happening. She sat open mouthed and wide eyed as Nick spoke.

"Pheebs, you make me happier than I ever thought I could be." Nick smiled. "You are the best thing that's ever come stompin' into my life. And, if you let me, I promise to spend every day trying to make you feel exactly the same way."

She smiled as the tears blurred her vision.

Seeing her tear up caused tears to prick in Nick's eyes; but he powered on. "I know you're not big on marriage 'cos you're afraid it won't work out but Pheebs...it only has to work once." He took the velvet box out of his pocket and opened it up so the ring sparkled in her direction. "Phoebe Parker...will you please marry me?"

Phoebe laughed happily. "Yes."

"Yeah?" Nick repeated with a wide grin. She just nodded frivolously in response. Nick took the ring out of the box and slipped it over her left ring finger.

"Of course I will." Phoebe grabbed him by the back of the neck, kissed him hard then hugged him as tightly as she could.


	74. Rashomama

_I love this episode. If you've seen it; you know that it's told in the flashbacks of Sara, Nick, Greg and Grissom's POV's of the crime scene of the wedding. So for these next couple of chapters, I'll be doing Phoebe's take on it as well as the case in general. Hope you like!_

**RASHOMAMA**

Phoebe held her engagement ring up to the sunlight streaming in from Nick's SUV window and admired it for the millionth time since he'd given it to her two weeks before. "Look how it sparkles." She said to her fiancé who was in the driver's seat beside her. "I still can't believe you picked out the _perfect_ ring." She ran her fingers over the diamond. It was set in a thin, white gold band and Phoebe loved it. Since her skin was quite pale; she didn't like wearing gold because it seemed strange next to her skin. That was why most of her jewelry was silver. Of course _now_ she had the white gold addition.

"Well, I do what I do." Nick smiled and took her hand.

"Oh God," Phoebe grinned. "We have to plan a wedding now."

"I know." Nick agreed. "See anything you liked at that crime scene?"

Phoebe gave him a look. "You want me looking for wedding ideas at a scene where the mother of the groom's already dead body was dragged behind the marital car in front of all the guests?"

"Guess not." Nick conceded.

"Anyway; our wedding's not gonna be that big." Phoebe told him. "We don't know that many people." She thought a moment. "Although now that my mother and Jack know I'm sensing a whole bunch of relatives I've never met being invited." Her mother had been so thrilled she'd starting crying almost straight away.

Nick pulled his car into Frank's Coffee Shop parking lot and he and Phoebe exited the vehicle. They walked into the café and over to a table where Greg and Sara were already sitting at a table picking at their food. "Smells like bacon in here." Nick noted as he slid into the booth beside Sara.

"Why do we always come here?" Phoebe asked as Greg stood up and made a show of letting her slide into the booth beside the window.

"Open 24 hours." Greg shrugged as he sat back down.

"_Everything_ in Vegas is open 24 hours." Sara smirked.

"It's cheap." Greg pointed out.

"That scene took forever." Nick spoke up as he nicked some bacon off Sara's plate. "We were there like, what, nine hours?"

"Eleven." Sara corrected him as she smacked his hand away from her plate.

"Yeah, well, a dead lawyer and two hundred eyewitnesses?" Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "It was gonna take awhile."

"Come for a wedding, stay for the funeral." Nick deadpanned as he looked around for a waitress. "Why _do_ we always eat here?"

"It's tradition." Greg said with a laugh.

"Ah, tradition." Sara repeated. "Like becoming property exchange between your father and your husband?"

"Hey," Phoebe silenced her. "Newly engaged woman over here."

"Don't listen to her," Nick told Phoebe. "That's not what a wedding is. It's a public declaration of love."

"Aw," Phoebe smiled at him. "You're so girly."

"I'm with Vince Vaughn on this one." Greg spoke up. "Dozens of horny, single women with access to an open bar and coupling on their mind?"

"Sorry." Sara smiled at Phoebe. "Keep forgetting. Set a date yet?"

"In two weeks? No." Phoebe replied. Since they were off the clock, Phoebe had no qualms discussing her wedding issues with Greg and Sara especially since everyone knew about the engagement by now. "I'm still organizing everything I have to organize. I'm making a list of what to do and it just keeps getting longer. My mother was rabbiting on about placemats the other day."

"You got lotsa family coming to this thing?" Greg asked her coyly.

Phoebe glanced at him. "You want me to hook you up with a relative on my own wedding day, don't you?"

"Don't pretend like you don't already have someone in mind." Greg smirked at her.

Phoebe chewed her lip. "Damn you; I do."

"Weddings are a Rorschach. Everybody sees what they want to see." The waitress said as she came over and set coffee in front of Phoebe and Nick. "My first five were good."

"Hey, Sara, check it out." Phoebe pointed to the television in the corner. "You're on TV." Everyone at the table turned to watch as the reporter on screen ran through the notable points of their crime scene.

"We haven't even gone back to the lab yet and we're already on TV." Greg muttered.

"Noted criminal defense attorney, Diane Chase, was killed yesterday." The reporter said. "In a tragic twist, Ms. Chase was killed while attending her son's wedding. She was best known for taking on the toughest  
cases. And it was her defense of high-profile, organized crime associates that really made her a name in legal circles."

On the monitor they showed some file footage of Diane Chase with her client, Dino Fatelli, exiting a courtroom and being hounded by reporters. "If it was an intelligent question; I'd answer it." Diane told them all.

"Most recently," The reporter continued. "She represented Dino Fatelli of the Fatelli crime family, who was sentenced to life last month for the brutal slaying of casino mogul Remy James."

"The stones on these guys." Greg shook his head and went back to his meal. "To take her out at her son's wedding?"

"Hey," Phoebe pointed at Nick. "Here's a question. Band or DJ for the wedding?"

"Band." Nick answered. "More formal."

Phoebe cocked her head. "True. But a DJ will play the top 30. Oh my God; perfect solution; we get a band and a jukebox!"

"Where are you two getting married?" Sara spoke up with a wry smile. "The 70's?"

"Another comment like that and I will take you off the guest list." Phoebe threatened with a smile. "Oh, but speaking of formal, one of us is gonna have to talk to Jack. He left a message on my phone; he's deadest on wearing this suit with tails, an ascot and a top hat. I will not have _that_ walking me down the aisle."

"They still make suits like that?" Nick chuckled.

"No." Phoebe smirked. "I think he bought it after the war."

Nick chuckled "Pass the cream, will you?" He asked Sara who passed over the creamer.

Phoebe yawned and tossed her head back as Greg absently glanced out the window where a large truck was driving away. Having seen Phoebe and Nick park their car, Greg became very aware that Nick's SUV was nowhere to be seen. "Dude, where's your car?"

Nick looked up at him and pointed out the window. "It's parked right…" Then he saw that it was definitely gone. "Oh, hell."

**xxx**

Sara called Grissom who called Brass who called Undersheriff Jeff McKeen and they all gathered outside Frank's Coffee Shop. "So…how did this happen?" Brass asked a guilt ridden Phoebe, Nick, Sara and Greg.

"Jim; I always lock my car." Nick tried to explain. "This is just…bad luck."

"Don't say that to McKeen." Greg mumbled.

"Incoming." Brass nodded over his shoulder as McKeen wandered in their direction looking bewildered.

"I'll talk. You guys just look apologetic." Grissom instructed his CSI's.

"All right, let me see if I understand this correctly." McKeen said slowly as he stood in front of Grissom with his team behind him. "You let one of the members of your team drive his personal vehicle to a crime scene investigation; and then, even though there was a perfectly good crime scene vehicle there, that personal car was crammed with every bit of evidence collected at a major murder investigation, because two of you were maxed out on overtime and two of you," he pointed a finger each at Nick and Phoebe "Aren't supposed to work cases together."

"Sir, we were tapped out-" Nick tried to explain.

"And then the driver of said car," McKeen interrupted. "Instead of securing that evidence in the lab, gave priority to his need for runny eggs. And the aforementioned vehicle was stolen from a parking lot filled with police cars. Is there anything I missed?"

"Just this," Grissom spoke up. "Even if we recover the vehicle, the chain of custody has been broken, so all the evidence has been compromised. No judge will allow any of it to be admitted into court. Also, we released the crime scene, so it, too, is compromised, leaving us nothing to go back for."

McKeen removed a roll of antacid tablets from his pocket and popped one. "Thank you for clarifying the situation." He glared at the CSI's then turned back to his car.

"Well, it could've been worse." Brass said with a smirk and a shrug.

"Oh my God!" Phoebe gasped. "My iPod was in the glove box!" she smacked her forehead. "Dammit."

"Seriously?" Nick raised his eyebrows at her. "You're gonna complain about your iPod when my cars' gone?"

"Nick; I spent four hours yesterday sorting playlists." Phoebe grumbled. "God; I need a beer."

"You don't drink." Nick reminded her.

Phoebe sighed. "Yeah, well, right now I have no idea why."


	75. Underneath

**_Long, long, LONG time between chapters here, and I'm sorry for that! Rest assured Nick and Phoebe always enter my mind when I watch CSI, and late night marathons of watching have got me wanting to write them again. I wanna be done with this story first, forgive me really quickly glazing over it but I just could not get the muse to work with me to finish this. Nothing vital to the story happened anyway, and I wanna get into other stuff ASAP. So enjoy! And stay tuned :)_**

**UNDERNEATH**

Nick's truck did turn up; having had quite the makeover from some alley kids in town; but it was back. Evidence gone; but it didn't matter. The CSI's got their stories straight; and IAB were satisfied. So eventually; after almost forty-eight hours of waiting, Sara, Greg, Nick and Phoebe were interviewed and then released.

Two weeks later, Nick and Phoebe found themselves on a case together; definitely not the norm but CSI was stretched way too thin with everyone having worked double shifts more than once a week, Grissom didn't seen the point in semantics when he had two capable CSI's just waiting around, not being able to work together due to red tape, so he took the heat and sent Nick and Phoebe out on the call together.

For a change; it was daytime. Well; early morning, just past sunrise. When Nick and Phoebe arrived at the scene, they were greeted by Detective Brass, who was looking like he'd just pulled a few doubles himself.

"Morning," He said with a smile, squinting in the morning sunlight. "Nothing like a morning drug raid; huh?"

Phoebe grimaced; she hated basement jobs. "Lovely."

"It's a real mine-field in there," Brass informed them. "David cleared out the body already, owner of the house; Patrick Donovan. He was in the thick of the drug mess. David said preliminary COD is blunt force trauma. Don't worry; chemically cleared by poison control; mostly the stuff down there's supplies."

"Alright," Nick nodded and looked towards the ramshackle house; it seemed to be stuck together with glue awaiting the harsh wind that would undoubtedly be the one to knock it over. "Well; we'll get started then."

"Enjoy."

The upstairs of the house seemed relatively normal. Somewhat empty and messy at the same time, but downstairs was a different story. A line could have been drawn across the room and it would have appeared to be two different basements. One side was just like any other typical basement; old furniture, moth-eaten boxes, two overflowing bookcases with novels spilling over. The left side was drug city. The walls were lined with pill bottles; there were tubes and beakers littering the metal desk shoved to the corner.

The faint smell of bleach caught Phoebe's ear; a half-assed attempt to clean up the blood on the left side of the room where Patrick had been murdered. "If cause of death was BFT… I see at least a dozen things in here that could have done the job."

"Yeah, I know." Nick agreed, eying a stack of bricks at the base of the stairs. "Well; if whoever killed him did as good a job cleaning the murder weapon as they did cleaning up this blood," He knelt by a faint reddish brown stain on the floor. "It shouldn't take too long to find."

"I call the right side," Phoebe volunteered, stepping over to the cleaner side of the room.

"I knew you would." Nick muttered as he set to work confirming that the blood was indeed blood.

Even though there was dim light in the basement, it wasn't enough for clear view so Phoebe took out her flashlight and started inspecting the books on the shelves, snapping some photos as she did so. "Not the usual library I'd guess for someone running a drug operation…" She eyed novels by Dickens and Emily Bronte, even some Shakespeare; all of which had a healthy coat of dust on the cover.

"Owner was a kid, right?" Nick asked as he swabbed a stain on the leg of the desk. "In his twenties? I'm guessing the house once belonged to a family member, and he just tossed everything he didn't want down here."

Phoebe nodded and continued looking slowly around. Rolled up beside one of the bookcases was a stretch of carpet, it caught her eye because it was in the way; possibly fallen because it was recently moved. As Phoebe unraveled it; a large red stain came into view. "Nick; I got more blood here…" Phoebe said. "Fresh… maybe they tried to carry the guy out on this…" She took the carpet into an open space of the floor and unrolled it.

Nick let out a low whistle as he looked over her shoulder. "That is a lot of blood…"

"Hm…" Phoebe grunted in agreement. "They didn't try and hide Patrick's body, barely cleaned up the scene…"

"You think that's someone else's blood?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Maybe." She squatted to the ground and took a sample for DNA.

"Brass like anyone for the murder?"

"He said on the phone neighbours complained about the noise a few times; said three young men were coming and going at all hours, cops are looking for them."

"They're young... and stupid... maybe it won't take long to find them." Nick said optimistically.

"And maybe we get outta here while the suns still up." Phoebe added.

They work solidly for another hour, taking samples of all the drugs, printing all surfaces and still searching for the murder weapon. Nick had a theory that if they hadn't found it yet; it might mean the killers took it with them.

When Phoebe felt the first shudder through the ground; she thought it might just be her head reacting to standing up too fast. Then she saw the bookshelf shake and rattle. "Did you feel that?" She asked Nick.

The next shuddering was unmistakable.

"Phoebe, move!" Nick yelled as he ran straight for her as the walls started to shift. "Move!" Grabbing her up in his arms he pushed her to the ground; shielding her body with his own as the basement fell to pieces around them.

**xxx**

Phoebe woke up coughing, a heavy weight on her chest. "Nick?" She croaked, her eyes fluttering open. She realized she could feel the weight breathing. He was on top of her. "Nick?"

He woke up with a jump. "Oh!" Quickly his mind jumped into action. "Are you ok?" He traced his fingers across Phoebe's dirtied, bloodied face. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry."

Phoebe smiled. "I'm okay." She said truthfully. "I just cut my head. Can you move?"

"Ah; yeh, I think so..." Nick had to wiggle slowly to shift off of her.

They were caved in a quite tight space; but the bookcase had fallen on an angle; shielding them from any harmful debris. Thankfully, they were on the 'good' side of the basement, all the drug paraphernalia was on the other side. There was enough room for both Phoebe and Nick to lie flat on their backs; but not room for much else.

"_Are y... .. ay?_" Jim's voice crackled over Nick's radio. _"Phoe... ick... ay? Are you... kay?"_

Nick grabbed his radio and assured Brass. "Yeah; we're good, Jim," He coughed. "We're good... what the hell happened?"

"_Earthquake_." Jim replied. "_We'll get you guys outta there as soon as we can, okay?"_

"Yeah; got it." Nick said.

"Earthquake?" Phoebe repeated, finding a napkin from the coffee shop in her pocket which she held against the cut on her head. "I've lived here for seven years; I've never been in an earthquake before."

"We get micro-quakes all the time." Nick told her. "Deep underground; you wouldn't even feel them. It's possible you even slept through some."

"God, you're a nerd." Phoebe said quietly.

Nick rolled on his side to face her. "I heard that." He took the napkin from her hand and inspected her would. "This is deep, Pheebs..." He said a moment later. "You'll need stitches."

"Great." Phoebe deadpanned, like she needed more random scars on her body. "I don't even know what I cut it on."

Nick prodded gently at the gash in her skin. "Something sharp..." He guessed. "Sorry."

"It's ok," Phoebe assured him. "I woulda been crushed by something other than you if you hadn't knocked me out of the way."

"Yeah; well, wait until we get out of here to thank me." Nick muttered as he lay back down and lifted his hands to the rear of the bookcase that shielded them. "Maybe I can shift this..." He pushed his palms up against it. Whatever was on top of it shifted, making a scraping noise, and then there was a handful of clunking sounds; heavy items, mostly likely books; moving and falling.

"Ok, yeh, why don't you just stop touching," Phoebe said, swatting his hands away from the bookcase. "We don't need it to cave in."

"_Nick?_" Brass's voice crackled through the radio again.

"Yeah; Jim?"

"_We're looking for the best way to get you out; the whole place collapsed in on itself_." He explained.

Phoebe snatched for Nick's walkie. "Can't you just dig us out?"

"_That was the plan_," Jim continued. "_But we gotta hang tight for a bit longer in case there are any aftershocks. We don't need anyone else stuck. How's your position? Anything hurt_?"

"No; we're pretty safe right now." Phoebe told him. "I have no idea where my kit is; it had evidence in it-"

"_Don't worry about that right now; just stay calm, ok_?"

"Will do. Did you get a hold of Grissom or Catherine?"

"_Yeah; Gil's on his way here_."

"Ok, good. Keep us posted." Phoebe rested the radio on Nick's chest. "What time is it?" She asked him.

"Almost eight-thirty." He replied, checking the clock on his cell phone. "Well... it's safe to say the crime scene's compromised." He added despondently.

"We got photos," Phoebe reminded him. "That's something, even if everything else is crushed." An unmistakable chittering sound caught Phoebe to her right. "Oh!" She hunched closer to Nick.

"What?" His voice was frantic. "What is it?"

"Cockroach!" Phoebe blanched. She could stand them when she wasn't so incapacitated; but knowing that she really couldn't move if a hoard of them decided to run all over her was most disconcerting. "Oh; God, I hope there's only one." Thankful she was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, Phoebe aimed her elbow at the creature and smushed it.

"Grissom's gonna be pissed if he finds out you did that," Nick said with a grin.

"I ate a friggin grasshopper the day he hired me," Phoebe reminded him. "For all he knows that thing died in the earthquake."

"Ok; stop thinking about it," Nick told her, knowing her mind would be wondering how many other creepy crawlies must be living in the walls of this old home. "Put your mind on something else."

"Like what? The earthquake? The fact that there's lethal drugs mere metres away? The bugs?"

"Would it kill you to be positive, Pheebs?"

"It might." She said vehemently; the adrenaline of this whole experience was wearing off; and her head was starting to ache.

"You're still bleeding pretty bad," Nick said, concernedly pulling away the napkin on her forehead to check her wound. You need a bandage or something to hold pressure on it..." He rustled around in his back pocket for something. "Here..."

"No; you love those gloves!" Phoebe said as he pulled his leather gloves up onto his chest, turning one inside out.

"Yeah, well, I love you more, slide over," He instructed, reaching an arm under her neck and shoulders to pull her close, and then he pressed his glove against her head, apologizing when she flinched in pain.

"This is why we shouldn't work together," Phoebe quipped. "One or both of us ends up hurt."

**xxx**


	76. Stuck In The Suburbs

**STUCK IN THE SUBURBS**

Phoebe didn't want to say anything; but she had a fair idea of what Nick was thinking. Not six months before had he been stuck underground; a victim to a sadistic serial killer who wanted to play with him, taunt him, test how long he could endure the isolation. It had been the single scariest moment in Phoebe's life, seeing Nick's pained expression through that horrific plexi-glass, the way he grabbed for her hand when they managed to open it, the ferocity of his fingers gripping her wrist. He hadn't let go.

If the thought wasn't already in Nick's mind, Phoebe wasn't going to be the one to put it there. So instead she tried a different way of distracting him. "How many people should we have at our wedding?" She asked, turning to him in hopes he would look back at her, and that the focus between them would keep him calm.

"However many you want." He answered simply.

"See, that's the problem. I dunno how many I want... lots of people is fun, I guess... but it's expensive..." She clucked her tongue. Money wasn't really a problem, her mother, Penny and her step-father, Jack, had more than enough in the way of finances. Phoebe just wasn't sure if she had the energy for a massive wedding, she'd be happy with just herself, Nick and a priest; but her friends and family were having none of that. "We could go somewhere, like Hawaii?" she suggested. "But who wants to go there..."

"Baby, I know what you're doing."

"Or Italy! We could go to Italy! Screw everyone else!"

"Phoebe, cut it out, I'm okay, really."

"Of course you are... I'm just... distracting myself."

"You're here... and believe it or not; you make me calm... that's all I need."

Phoebe clasped his hand tightly within her own and squeezed. "We'll get out of here."

As it would seem, the debris above them was conspiring against Phoebe's confidence. There was a scraping noise, like something metal was slipping, and then a loud clang that made both Phoebe and Nick jump.

"_Nick? Phoebe?" _

Nick recognized Grissom's voice hiss through his radio. "Yeah, Gris, what the hell was that?"

"_Framework of the building is completely rusted_." He answered. "_The more we move, the more debris is destabilized."_

"Tell me you got a Plan B."

"Yeah; we do. We're gonna dig into the soil beside the house, create a tunnel," Grissom explained. "Get you out that way."

"Well; how long's that gonna take?"

"Be patient, Nicky. We're moving as fast as we can."

"Be patient." Nick repeated under his breath as he clicked off his radio. "Easier said than done."

Sighing and leaning against his arm, Phoebe tried to think of something else to pass the time. Then she saw the faint crack in the book case that was shielding them. "Gimme your penlight," She said to Nick, not waiting for an answer and taking the miniature flashlight from his work vest, pushing herself up onto her elbows to get a closer look.

"What?"

A lump of fear lurched in Phoebe's through. "It's sagging under the weight." She said quietly, quickly glancing around the edges of the bookcase to see if there were any other signs of breakage, if they lost the protection of the bookcase, there was no telling what might rain down on them instead.

"Ok, lean back," Nick instructed her. "Don't touch it, don't move." He had her hand again. "Just lie still."

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Phoebe did as he suggested, and even though she swore she could see the crack widening, over the next hour it didn't get any larger. For all Phoebe knew, it had cracked when the case first fell over. Still, it was a hassle she could do without.

When the diggers started up, however, there was no mistaking it. Little flecks of paint and dust began to fall around Phoebe and Nick. Both of them instinctively pulled up the collars of their shirts to cover their noses and mouths. Considering the basement was a drug den, it was safe to say breathing in the fumes could be quite hazardous.

One plus was that Phoebe's head has stopped bleeding; but it still stung like hell so when relaxed against Nick's shoulder, it pained her all over again and caused her to curse quite profoundly.

"Language, m'lady," Nick chuckled, stroking her hair. "They'll get us out of here soon."

"Yeah; still... this crime scene is trashed. Totally trashed. We've lost whatever evidence we had," Phoebe sighed; she hated losing a case. "This sucks."

"We're alive," Nick reminded her. "And we could be crushed or blown up or something. I'd take losing a crime scene over losing you any day."

"Oh, _line_," Phoebe whined, nudging him. There was a loud, sudden crack that made Phoebe jump. "What the hell?"

The diggers were making progress; that much was clear, the roaring sound was getting louder, but the vibrations they made were causing the bookcase to shift... and to crack.

"Oh, hell," Nick swore and grabbed for his radio.

"It's cracking!" Phoebe yelled.

"Grissom! Stop those diggers, man, we're about to get crushed!"

"_What? Nick, say again?_"

"Stop the goddamn diggers!" Nick swore again and dropped his radio, turning to Phoebe. "Pheebs, you gotta move," He took his arms off her and tried to push her to the other side of their little nook; the bookcase would come right down on top of them and there wasn't enough room for both of them to remain on the one side.

"No, we have to stay together," Phoebe tightened her grip on his wrist.

"Phoebe, move or this thing'll crush both of us!" He pushed her hard so she slid right over, and the bookcase promptly gave way.

"Nick!" Phoebe tried to scream over the noise; but her mouth filled with dust and fumes, making her cough. "Nick!" She thrust her arm out to her side to reach him but instead hit a wall of crumbling debris. She was stuck; worse than before. She couldn't move her legs; they were crushed under the weight of a huge pile of books that were pinning her down. "Nick!" She cried again; her voice strangled as tears filled her eyes; she wanted out. "Get me out of here!" She cried to nothing, her words tainted by more coughing.

Trying to catch her breath and slow her heart rate, Phoebe listened intently to hear if Nick was calling her; but all she could hear was the diggers, still shovelling dirt. "Nick?" She ventured again through a sob. What if he'd been crushed? Her legs were stuck; what if something had fallen on his head and knocked him out. "Please!" She cried, sobs escaping from her mouth. "Please answer me!" She wept. "_Nick!_"

**xxx**


	77. The End Of My Rope

**The End Of My Rope**

"Nick!" Phoebe cried out again; panic was coursing through her veins. Her level head was gone. She wanted to get out. She didn't care how loud she cried or how openly she sobbed. Moving was not an option; every time she shifted the debris on top of her would shift as well. The only thing she could hear were the diggers still working melded with the muffled sound of her cries.

* * *

Outside the dilapidated home, Warrick Brown paced back and forth. There was nothing physically he could do; but with both Phoebe and his best friend, Nick, stuck underground; all he wanted to do was grab a shovel and start digging; but as Grissom kept saying; it wasn't an option.

Everyone from the night shift crew was here now, along with Brass and a handful of television crews that were being herded behind barriers like sheep. Catherine, looking as tired and weathered as Warrick felt, came to him with a hot, Styrofoam cup of coffee. "Here." She shoved the drink into his hands.

"Why's it taking so long?" Warrick muttered as he swallowed down some much needed caffeine.

"It's unstable." Catherine said; it was hard for her to remain composed but somehow she managed; somebody had to be the rock. "The ground... weather reports say rain's coming in... if that happens..." She didn't finish the sentence. If the rain started, the diggers would have to stop. The dirt would become more unstable and it would be even more dangerous for Nick and Phoebe.

"I can't believe this is happening again." Warrick mumbled, his mind flashing back to that awful time of seeing Nick stuck in that plexi-glass box... it was the closest he'd come to believing he would lose his friend. But this time was worse; Phoebe was involved. He could lose two friends with just one change in the weather.

"_Phoebe_?"

Warrick heard his friend's name come from Grissom to his left and it immediately caught his attention.

"Phoebe!""

"What's going on?" Warrick said as he arrived beside his boss. Gris had a walkie-talkie in his hand and through the speaker Warrick could hear her terrified cries. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't think she can hear me," Grissom said; wiping sweat from his brow. Despite it being late at night; everyone was sweating with exhaustion. "Maybe she's lying on the radio, or she can't reach it... or she's panicking and can't hear anything else."

"Give it to me," Warrick said, snatching the radio from Grissom's hand. "Pheebs?" He snapped into the radio; his voice loud and harsh. "Stop that goddamn crying!" He knew if she could hear him; she would answer. He had to get through to her somehow; and snapping at her might be the only way. "Stop crying and pick up the damn radio!" He waited with bated breath, as did Catherine and Grissom, as Phoebe's sobs became shorter, quieter, and then there was some rustling; as though she was moving.

"Warr-ick; you're an asshole." She stammered through the radio.

Warrick's nervous face broke out in a grin. "I knew that'd get your attention." He said calmly. "How you doin'?"

"I... I dunno..." Her voice was shaking. "My legs are pinned... a bookcase collapsed on us," Her breathing came through the radio ragged and scared. "I can't hear Nick. He won't answer me. He should be right beside me!" She was getting panicked again. "He should be able to hear me! He's hurt; you have to get him out!"

"Phoebe, I need you to listen to me, ok?" Warrick said firmly; it was hard to keep his voice steady when he could hear Phoebe in so much distress. "I need you to stay calm."

"_HOW_?" Phoebe screamed. "Nick's hurt, I can't stay calm!" She started grunting and sobbing again. "I have to get out! Get me out of here; please! I can't be in here!"

"Phoebe!" Warrick snapped, having a sudden flash of an idea. "Tell me about your wedding!"

_"Get me out!"_

"I'm the best man, right?" Warrick continued. "Want me to be your maid of honour, 'cos I'll do that, too."

_Sobbing..._

"You gonna get married in Vegas?" He kept going. "Have Elvis marry you?"

"I... I dunno..." Phoebe managed to answer. "My Mum and Jack are in Miami..."

"Naw, you can't get married over there." Warrick said; trying to keep the simple conversation going. "You gotta get married here; you both met here so it's gotta be here."

She laughed through a tight throat. "Y-you might b-be right."

"You know I am." He knew he had her calm now. "Now, we're gonna get you out of there, both of you, all you gotta do is lay there, know how easy you got it?"

* * *

_Just lay here... _not_ so easy, Warrick..._

Phoebe clutched the radio to her chest, her heartbeat significantly less rapid than it had been moments before. She could still feel her legs, even though they were pinned, but they were getting that pins and needles feeling. That was not a great sign.

She knew she had to keep calm, if she hyperventilated she'd just use up what little oxygen she had in this little pocket of misery. Closing her eyes, she started to count back from a thousand by sevens, forcing the horrid images of Nick impaled on a blunt ceiling bracket from her mind. All that mattered were those sevens.

* * *

"They've got one!"

The call rang around the crowd getting progressively louder and more jubilant. The news reached Brass first, and he ordered the medics standing by down into the hole the diggers had scooped out of the earth. He didn't know who it was, Phoebe or Nick, but he alerted Grissom right away.

"What condition are they in?" Gil asked, following Brass behind the medics.

"Don't know, they heard knocking on a pipe and called me."

"Nick." Grissom deduced. "Phoebe wasn't knocking on anything; she would have when she was panicking. It's Nick."

The pair breathed a shared sigh of relief. Nick and Phoebe were both alive. At the edge of the dugout they waited, shining torches on the medics as they pulled Nick's body from the dirt. He was coughing and bleeding from superficial cuts across his bare arms, but his eyes were open and he was eagerly trying to get himself out.

"Nick?" Gil called down to his friend and team member.

"You get Phoebe?" He said through sharp coughs.

"Not yet; we'll get her next." Brass said quickly.

"She's in radio contact with Warrick," Grissom assured him. "She's fine."

The medics strapped Nick down on a handheld gurney and carried him up out of the hole; Brass took the place of one of the medics so he could inspect Nick's wounds. The rain was letting up, but still irritatingly cold, so Grissom slid off his jacket and held it over Nick's face as they carted him towards the waiting ambulance.

"Was there a quake?" Nick said, dazed, as he was slid into the back of the truck.

"Yeah," Grissom smiled. "There was. I'll ride with him to the hospital." He said to the medic.

Nick suddenly grabbed Grissom's wrist. "No! Not without Phoebe, do not take me anywhere until she gets out, Gris, please?"

Grissom eyed the medic. "Is that okay?"

"We can do a preliminary check here," The medic replied. "But if we have to go; we go."

"Fine."

"Gil, be there when they get her out, okay?"

"I will," He squeezed Nick's shoulder and headed back into the rain. "Jim?"

Brass shook his head, anticipating Grissom's question. "She's in deeper than he was; they gotta clear out all the crap that was on top of Nick before they can get in there."

Gli rubbed at the knot of tension forming between his eyes. "Warrick?" He called. "How is she?"

"Counting," Warrick replied, holding the radio to his ear. "She sounds okay, should I tell her about Nick?"

Grissom frowned. Currently she was distracted; that was a good thing, to keep her mind busy, but he couldn't keep it from her, once she got out she'd have his head. "Yeah, tell her, but tell her to keep counting, too."

"Pheebs, don't answer me, just keep counting, we got Nick, he's fine, and now we're coming to you. Keep counting." Her voice paused, her breathing coming ragged through the speaker, and then she continued counting down. "Good... keep going."

* * *

Phoebe was down to the two thousands when she felt the ground to her left start to shake. Were they finally getting to her... or was the earth quaking again... either way it made it impossible for her to keep counting and she lost her number. "Dammit..." She started breathing faster. "One... two... three..." Just counting would work, right? Who cared about the number as long as her mind was somewhere else? And Nick was fine, he was out... it was just a matter of time... "Eight... nine..."

She didn't realize how tightly her eyes were closed until a puff of cold, fresh air struck her across the cheek. Her temples were throbbing her eyelids were pinched down so hard. The air was so fresh it made her cough.

"Ms. Parker?"

"Yeah!" Phoebe cried out, thrusting her hand through the small gap, groping for something to hang onto. "Help me out, please! Get me out, get me out!" Her hand was grasped up by someone wearing thick gloves.

"We're gonna get you out, we're just figuring out the safest way. Can you move your legs?"

Phoebe turned her head to the hole and inhaled sweet breaths of fresh air. "Yeah, no, they're stuck." She replied, trying to tug her legs up; they felt numb. "Please get me out," Panic came over her again, she could see someone moving outside, she could see rain falling on the ground but she couldn't get to it; life was a bitch. "Please, get me out!" Tears ran down her face, clouding the dirt in her eyes making them sting.

"Phoebe, I need you to listen to me, alright?"

She recognized the voice. "Gil?"

"Yeah, I'm here," The gloved hand let go of her and she felt Grissom's rough skin squeeze her palm. "I think we have a way of getting you out but we'll need your help, can you help us?"

Phoebe took a few deep breaths, gripping her boss's hand as hard as her strength would let her. "Ok... I think I can, okay..."

"Alright; we think the best thing is to pull you out of this hole, but we have to get your legs out first."

"Okay..."

"So we're gonna give you a level, slide it down your leg, and we'll pump it from here, it'll lift the debris off your leg, but it won't hold for long so we gotta pull you out as soon as you're free, do you understand?"

"Yeah... yeah... Gil, just get me out."

"You're gonna get yourself out – like you'd have it any other way. Are you ready?"

"Hell yeah."

"Ok, I'm gonna let go of your hand, and put the level in it, ok?"

"Please hurry." Phoebe's heart started racing again as soon as Grissom let go of her hand, and in its place she felt the cold metal of a level. It shook in her hands, but it was her way out, she had to focus. She couldn't see anything so held the level at her hip and slid it down as far as she could; until it was past her knee. "Ok, go!" Phoebe called to Gil, he had her hand again. Almost immediately she felt pressure on her legs, and the pins and needles feeling came back, and now she knew that was a good sign, the nerves were waking up. She told her mind to wiggle her toes, it took a few seconds but she felt them move, and then managed to shift her legs from side to side. "Ok, now, now!" She called to Gil, throwing her second arm through the hole, someone immediately grabbed on to it and within seconds she was lying in the damp dirt with the rain pouring on her; it was the most wonderful feeling she'd felt since the day she got engaged.


	78. Aftershocks

_AN - Sorry for the looonnng delay in updates, but I wanted to thank all my new reviewers and alerters for this story, this chapter is for you because you brought back the muse for this one :) Enjoy ;)_

**Aftershocks**

Phoebe emerged from a heavy, deep sleep feeling as though she hadn't slept at all. She woke with a jump, afraid her legs were still pinned, that Nick was still stuck, that she wasn't going to be rescued. A strangled cry escaped from her mouth as she tried to scream for help.

"Phoebe?" Catherine's voice was soft and soothing. "You're in the hospital. Can you open your eyes?"

It seemed to take whatever energy she had left to open her weighed down eyelids, but Phoebe managed to squint them open. Her vision was cloudy and blurred, Catherine was a mere cluster of colours mixing together on her right side. "Do I have my legs?" Phoebe asked weakly.

Catherine smiled, the blurs meshing together to form her familiar face. "Yes, you have all major and minor limbs and organs." She patted her arm. "You're dehydrated, you needed stiches on your forehead and you had a nasty concussion; but the doctor said you'll be fine."

"Nick?"

"Hey, honey."

The quick snap of her neck to the left gave Phoebe an instant headache, but she smiled when she saw the fuzzy form of her fiancé take her hand and squeeze it between his palms. "Hi..." She smiled tiredly. "Do you still have your legs?"

"Everyone's got their legs." Nick said through a chuckle.

The more she awoke, the better her vision became, and Phoebe could now see a bandage covering half of Nick's forehead. "Oh, you cut your pretty face..." She said, reaching out and patting his cheek. He just smiled and leant against her hand. "Did I cut my pretty face?"

"Alright," Catherine said with a loud exhale. "I can see this getting more and more narcissistic the longer I stay, and I have to pick up Lindsey." She bent over and kissed her colleague's cheek. "I'll call you later."

"See ya, Cath."

The mention of Lindsey made Phoebe think school must have let out, so she checked her watch - realizing she wasn't wearing it.

"They took it off when they gave you a cat-scan," Nick said. "But I put the important one back on." He held up her left hand and waved her engagement ring in her face. "Survived an earthquake and still shining; that's a good rock."

Phoebe smiled. "What did I do to deserve you?" She joked.

"Like the ring," He kissed her knuckles. "I survived an earthquake, and still shining."

Phoebe laughed at his attempt to be suave, one of many that made her dissolve into giggles, and one of the many reasons she was marrying him.

* * *

It took a month for Phoebe's bruises to heal up enough to feel like she could venture into the public eye again. Her outing was slightly work related, but not to one of her own cases. It was for Nick, his first case since they had both been back at work. Nick had gone from the lab with Catherine to the hotspot on the Strip after they had cleared a crime scene there earlier in the week. Phoebe had taken a cab to meet them there.

The club was packed, but it also had handy mood lighting that helped keep Phoebe's bruises hidden. She wore a sleeveless black cocktail dress with a velvet bodice with black shawl collar and waistband. The full skirt puffed out to just above her knees and two pairs of skin coloured nylons covered the scrapes and on her legs. She'd spent most of her time getting ready on her hair, not able to decide how to style it. Eventually she settled on an off-centre ponytail with curls draped across one shoulder.

Catherine's black dress was slightly longer, well fitted to her svelte figure, and had a floral pattern around the hem. She also wore a nice pair of navy blue stilettos that significantly boosted her height. Cath led the way towards the bar beside Phoebe glancing around at the crowd.

"Do you think Grissom'll show?" Nick asked behind them as he guided Phoebe through the crowds by her waist.

"Not if he thinks he as to dance." Catherine pointed out, sliding into a bar stool. "Ladies and gentlemen," The Emcee's voice echoed through the crowd and the stage lights dimmed. "Tomorrow night, more than 18,000 people are going to come and see this guy at the Thomas and Mack Center. But tonight, you guys are going to hear him first. Everybody give it up for Mr. John Mayer!" "Ooh, I like him." Catherine purred as the lights dimmed and the audience applauded. "I can take him or leave him." Phoebe said, craning her neck to get a better view of the singer and aggravating the muscles in her still-tender neck as she did so. The dulcet notes of _Waiting on the World to Change _echoed throughout the club, and Phoebe smiled. "But I do like this song." "Then you gotta dance." Nick flashed her a smile and pulled Phoebe towards the crowded dance floor.

Waving them off with a grin, Catherine settled at the bar and immediately drew the attention of two well-dressed gentlemen nearby.

Nick gently spun Phoebe into his arms and held his hand to her waist, keeping her body close to his. He was careful with his movements so as not to hurt her injuries. Phoebe loved dancing with Nick, he was the first guy in a long time who actually _danced_ with her and didn't just grind up against her to cop an easy feel. The chorus kicked in and Nick twirled Phoebe around and then dipped her back, making her laugh.

The song melded into the much moodier _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room_, but Nick and Phoebe stayed planted on the dance floor, swaying to the music. Phoebe curled her hands around his neck and pulled his body close. His hands were folded around the small of her back, keeping their bodies together.

In their time off work to recover, Nick had decided to shave his head. Phoebe had been against it initially, but considering how good he looked _without_ his horrendous moustache, she entertained the idea that maybe he could rock a shaved head, too. And he could, and Phoebe found herself oddly attracted to it and unable to keep her hands off it when they were close. Especially while dancing, she ran her fingers up the back of his neck and kept pressing her lips against his.

Two more slow songs followed, and Phoebe couldn't detach herself from Nick. His lips brushed against her ear and he suggested they head home. Nodding, Phoebe clutched his hand tight between her palms as they waded their way through the slow-dancing crowd. They both waved goodnight to Catherine at the bar, who seemed to be enjoying herself with a handsome man leaning in towards her.

* * *

Phoebe was giggling again as she and Nick burst through their front door. They'd been kissing up against it and had stumbled through when Nick suddenly unlocked it, but it hadn't hampered their arousal. They didn't even attempt to make it to their bedroom, instead migrating to the sofa. Phoebe pushed Nick down on the couch and unzipped the back of her dress. Stepping out of it, she straddled Nick's lap and leant into him.

With a hungry look in his eyes, he ran his fingers against her cheek and then pulled her mouth to his, moaning as she pulled open the buttons of his shirt and slid her hands across his warm chest. He slid his hands up her back to the undo the clasp of her bra and gently grazed his fingertips against her skin sending a shiver across her skin. Holding herself in place with her knees, Phoebe let her bra slip off her arms and helped Nick remove his shirt completely. He then pulled her chest down against his and rolled her onto her back. Kissing her deeply, Nick moaned again as she unhooked the buckle of his jeans and reached her hand in to stroke him, muffling her own growl of pleasure against his lips.

* * *

The annoying jangling of Nick's cell phone snatched Phoebe from a peaceful, comforting, satisfied sleep. They were still on the sofa with a threadbare blanket draped over them. Phoebe was nuzzled against Nick's chest in the crook of his arm, and made an annoyed grunt when he shifted his lovely, warm, soft skin away from her to reach for his phone. Phoebe looped her arm around his neck and pressed herself against his back as he took the phone call, knowing from the way he spoke that it was a work call.

"Grissom." He mumbled when he hung up. "Guess I start early today." He leaned back and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips and headed for the bathroom.

Phoebe was letting herself fall back to sleep to the sound of the shower running when her own cell phone started singing from her handbag. It was on the floor, tossed aside during the events of the night before.

"Yeah?"

"Phoebe, it's Sara." Her voice was muffled.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Phoebe stretched out the length of the sofa. "You know I'm not working tonight, right?" She said through a yawn.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I called you." Sara said quietly. "Can you come down to the lab? Catherine needs some help..."

**xxx**


	79. Close Call

_Another long time between updates and I apologize! A recent run of lovely comments and messages about this story inspired me to finish this chapter, so I thank you to everyone who continues reading it :)This chapter is dedicated to you! Reading this right now! I thank you! _

**Close Call**

Phoebe had run DNA hundreds of times; but she didn't remember feeling as relieved to find a negative semen result ever before as much as she did when she got the results off of Catherine's rape kit. As per Sara's request, Phoebe kept the test off the record and took her results to find her colleague. But instead of finding Sara in the break room, Phoebe stood face to face with Catherine.

"I thought you were off tonight?" Catherine said. Her face was drawn and haggard. She looked like she hadn't slept, and the smile she gave Phoebe was completely fake.

"I-I was, I am." Phoebe said suddenly feeling as though the test results were burning in her hand.

"You working Grissom's miniature murder case of Izzy Delancy?"

"No." She went quiet, and Catherine seemed to deduce the reason why.

"Sara told you." Catherine shook her head in disbelief and snatched the test results from Phoebe's hand. "I asked her to keep it quiet."

"Cath-"

"Please don't say you're sorry."

"I wasn't going to." Phoebe said calmly. "The results are negative for semen. And Sara being pulled off Grissom's case caused more questions than me doing all of this off the books."

Sighing, Catherine's face seemed to soften slightly. "Please don't tell me Nick knows-"

"He doesn't." Phoebe answered immediately. "And I won't tell him, I promise."

"Lies. Great way to start a marriage." Catherine muttered, but she relaxed a touch more. "Fine, since you know, can you test this for me?" She took a paper cup off the table by the door. "Urine sample. Get it to Tox. And then test this for spermicidal." She handed Phoebe a baggie with half a tampon inside it. "Text me the results, okay?"

Phoebe took the samples as though it were a normal request. She didn't want Catherine to see the pity in her eyes or hear the sorrow in her voice."You got it." With a grateful smile, Catherine left Phoebe to work.

Not wanting to give Hodges any chance to inquire upon the test, after Phoebe sent the urine to toxicology, she stayed with the results off the tampon the entire time and made sure no extra eyes saw it. Her phone buzzed, a text from Nick saying he'd got called in on Grissom's miniature murder case. When Catherine had mentioned it Phoebe wasn't really paying attention, her superior was clearly rattled, but Nick using the same terminology had her mulling over it. She was determined not to leave the lab, even though her curiosity wanted to search around the lab for info on the case. Logic told her that miniature didn't refer to the stature of the victim, but then again she could never be sure.

"I thought that was you." Hodges hovered in the doorway, smug grin on his lips. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I'm not here." Phoebe said making sure Catherine's name wasn't visible on any of the papers in front of her. "You're hallucinating. Maybe you're having a stroke; you should go get that checked out."

"I do enjoy these little chats of ours." Hodges grin widened as approached her. "What are you working on?"

"Nothing. Just some follow up tests for my own peace of mind." She forced a smile. "Didn't see the need to bother your beautiful mind."

"Agreed." He kept nosing around, but didn't inquire more about her tests. "So, I thought I may as well let you know now that I'll be bringing a date to your wedding."

"Great, I can't wait to meet your mum."

"Hilarious." Hodges deadpanned. "So, have you decided on a location? Gardens? Hotel? Marquee? And what time? Do you have a colour scheme? Oh, have you picked a band because a cousin of mine is desperate to get into the wedding game."

"Hodges, I'm not going to discuss my wedding with you."

"Fine, fine," Hodges held up his hands. "Just give me the time and place and I'll be there with a blender. Or a toaster. Wait, where are you registered?"

Thankfully, the printer chose that moment to spit out the results. Phoebe gathered up the printout and Catherine's sample, gave Hodge's a big smile, and left him to his own devices. Since her tests for Catherine were off the record, Phoebe didn't put them into the evidence lockup. Instead, she texted Catherine the (thankfully) negative results for spermicide, sealed the items in an evidence bag, taped them into a box and stored it in one of the unused lockers. It was against protocol, but Phoebe knew Catherine would have her back if anything happened.

Job done, Phoebe was on her way out when she saw Sara in one of the labs staring at blown up photographs of a crime scene. "Hey," Phoebe said as she came in and made sure they were alone. "I ran the tests, Catherine wasn't raped."

Sara sighed. "Small favours, right?"

"What case is this?" Phoebe looked more closely at the pictures and noticed they weren't photos of an actual house, but photos of a model house.

"Grissom gets delivered a box with this miniature crime scene in it," Sara explained. "And then he gets called into a case that inspired the diorama. This thing is scarily exact, down to the bleach bottle in the garbage."

Phoebe looked at two crime scene photos, one of the deceased human man and one of the tiny little doll replica from the miniature. It was a scaled down, but identical to the smallest detail. Even the body position and blood pattern were exactly the same. "Scary is right. What came first? Diorama or murder?"

"Couldn't have predicted the blood pattern until after the murder," Sara mused. "But I'm guessing those were the last piece of the puzzle. I think the replica was made, murder committed, and then final details like the blood pool, body placement - they were done after the murder was committed."

"Well," Phoebe pinned the photos back up. "They say the Devil is in the details."

"Poetic." Sara smirked and reached for her buzzing cell phone. As she read the text, her smile disappeared and her eyes flashed up to Phoebe. "It's Grissom." She said. "Catherine's daughter was kidnapped."

**xxx**

By the time Phoebe got to the crime scene, Catherine had already refused medical treatment and had started hovering over Warrick's shoulder as they hunted for Lindsey. Everyone was called in to help find her, so Phoebe travelled back to the lab with Catherine's smashed up car to process it for evidence. When they were delivered to the CSI garage, Nick was already waiting for them.

"Hey." He looked happy to see her, but his eyes were bright with concern. "You see Catherine?"

"No, she was gone when I got there." Phoebe stood aside so the tow truck guys could deposit Catherine's into place.

"She told us." Nick said quietly just to Phoebe. "About being attacked last night."

Phoebe sighed and leant back against the wall. "I feel horrible. Why did we leave her there?"

"I know," Nick leant beside her. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"They're related." Phoebe said, leaning her head against Nick's shoulder. "Her attack and Lindsey's kidnapping. No way that's coincidence." She closed her eyes and felt Nick kiss her crown.

"Good to go!" The tow-truck driver announced, holding out a clipboard to Phoebe, who signed her name and sent him on his way.

"Let's get to it." Nick already had his fingerprinting kit organized and began dusting for prints on the door handles of the right side of the car.

Phoebe climbed into a pair of coveralls, unpacked her fingerprinting supplies, and began dusting the outer doorhandles on the left hand side. After twenty or so minutes of finding nothing but partial fingerprints, Catherine appeared at the door.

"Catherine." Phoebe immediately stopped dusting.

Catherine just shook her head to silence her. "I just want to work." She said bravely. "Any luck on the prints?"

"Nothing but partials." Phoebe said apologetically.

"That's impossible." Catherine stared at her car like she wanted to smack it with a bat.

"I ran the VIN number on the cougar that hit you." Nick spoke up. "A place sold it yesterday for cash. " He met eyes with Phoebe, and then turned back to Catherine. "Cath, we're really sorry for leaving you there."

"Don't go there, Nick. They were gonna get to me, one way or another." She gave each of them a smile that showed she didn't blame either of them for what had happened. "It had to have been at least two guys - one who was driving the Cougar, and the other in the SUV." Her brow knitted together and she thought for a moment. The ring of her cell phone made her jump. "He reached through the window. " Catherine said to Nick as she backed into the hall to answer the call. "Print the inside of that handle."

Nick nodded and did as she asked. "Gotcha." He muttered a moment later as he tapelifted a print from the handle surface. "I'll run this, you keep dusting."

Inside the car, Phoebe was tapelifting prints off the steering wheel she was sure were just going to come back as Catherine's. "Don't get used to me dusting, by the way." She said to Nick through the open driver's side window. "I'm not a domestic."

"Honey, you don't dust now." He teased as he scanned the print onto the computer at the bench beside them. "I wouldn't expect you to change."

She gave him a patronizing smile and went back to her work. "Hodges is bringing a date to our wedding, or so he says."

"So we're doing that plus one thing?" Nick said as he kick-started his computer search, but then he stopped and thought. "Or is it "and guest"? What do they put on invitations now?"

"Ugh, invitations." Phoebe groaned. "I've never seen one that I like. Ever. They're always cheesy and fiddly. A friend of my mum's had one with glitter all through the envelope. There's still traces of it in the mailbox."

Nick chuckled to himself. "Maybe we could do wedding e-vites." A second later, his computer beeped. "Pheebs, check this out. The print from inside the handle of Catherine's car matches a print from an open burglary case from a few months back."

"Whose?" Phoebe climbed out of the car and stood beside him looking at the screen over his shoulder.

"Yours." Nick pointed out her name. "And Warrick's."

Phoebe scanned the date, it had been the week before she and Nick had been pinned under that collapsed house during the earthquakes. Her memory of that time was sketchy, she couldn't remember the details of this case as well as she would have liked. She took down the case number, retrieved the file and then went searching for Warrick. She found him consoling Catherine in the break room.

On the table before them was a glossy print out that Phoebe only got a full view of when she stood by Catherine. It was a photo of Lindsey, bound and gagged to a dining chair. Her eyes were covered but her whole body sagged and her skin was sickly white. "Oh, God." Phoebe murmured.

Shaking her head, Catherine shoved aside the picture not wanting to look at it anymore. "Sam Braun's involved." She said to Phoebe as she rested her head in her hands. "He got sent this photo of Lindsey and one of me unconscious at the motel. Someone's trying to get at Sam through us."

Determined to keep her head, Phoebe addressed Warrick. "Print from the door handle matched an open case of ours from a few months back," Phoebe handed Warrick the file. He opened it up and scanned through the photos.

"Oh, this is from this couple from San Francisco." Warrick said nodding. "Bought a second home in Seven Hills, came back and found it tossed." His eyes narrowed on one particular crime scene photo. "Hold up..." He took a crime scene photo of the Seven Hills dining room chair and compared it to the photo of young Lindsey tied up. "The chair. It's the same."

**xxx**

Lindsey was found at the crime scene Warrick and Phoebe had processed months before. Though Catherine couldn't name the man Brass found at the scene holding Lindsey, she did recognize him from the night at the bar. A comparison of his fingerprints put him in the hotel room with Catherine when she was assaulted. A test of his DNA confirmed him as the brother of a man who had committed suicide at one of Sam Braun's infamous parties, Robert O'Brien.

O'Brien and his partner, Joe Hirschoff, had invested everything they had into one of Sam's casinos, Eclipse. The project went bankrupt, but Sam being the business man that he was just formed a new corporation to finish the job. Unfortunately for Hirschoff and O'Brien, them and their twenty million dollars were rendered useless. When they approached Sam for repayment and he refused, it became too much for O'Brien who swallowed his gun at the opening of Eclipse. In retaliation for everything, Hirschoff had teamed up with O'Brien's brother to get back at Sam by pursuing Lindsey and Catherine.

With Lindsey found and recovering in hospital, Catherine left her Phoebe to watch over her daughter while she went to confront Sam Braun. Phoebe hadn't spent a lot of time with Lindsey Willows in the past but she wasn't going to say no to Catherine even though Lindsey was adamant about not needing a babysitter.

"When's my mum coming back?" Lindsey asked while fiddling with the tape sealing a bandage on her forearm where her restraints had been tightest.

"Soon." Phoebe assured her. She was sitting cross-legged in a chair by the bed busying herself with her phone. She didn't want Lindsey to think she was fussing over her. Kids were easier to handle than teens, in Phoebe's experience. Teen victims sometimes had a whole "I need a hug but don't touch me" thing going on.

"Mum said you're getting married to Nick."

"Yeah." Phoebe pocketed her phone and hugged her knees to her chest.

"When?"

"Not sure yet."

"You should do a drive-through wedding," Lindsey said settling back into her pillows. "My friends parents did that. Whole night of drive throughs, food, wedding and then a movie."

Phoebe gave her a wry smile and nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." Truth was Phoebe didn't mind if Lindsey came to the wedding, but shouldn't there be more than one kid there? And Phoebe didn't know any others. She supposed to could tell Lindsey to bring a friend, but she wasn't keen on having people at her wedding she didn't know. Ugh, she hadn't even starting planning and she was getting a headache.

Catherine's mother, Lily, arrived soon after Lindsey fell to sleep so Phoebe was relieved of her post and finally headed home. It was certainly the most active day off she'd had in a long while. By the time she was climbing out of her car at home she was exhausted. Every muscle in her body ached. It was as though all the injuries she had suffered throughout her whole life were recurring at the same time.

As soon as Phoebe let herself into the house she saw Nick pacing back and forth. "Yeah; she just walked in," Nick said into the house phone. "Call you later." He tossed the phone on the couch and folded Phoebe against his body before she'd even shut the front door. "Warrick called, is Lindsey okay? Catherine?"

"Yeah, they're okay," Phoebe hugged him to her chest wanting to fall asleep right there on his shoulder. "Safe. Cuts, bruises, but they'll be okay."

"Sam Braun was shot dead."

Phoebe pulled back and stared at him, mouth agape. "What?"

"Catherine was there." Nick continued. "She went to confront Sam about everything and Hirschoff fired shot him right there in the front of his hotel."

"Damn," Phoebe sighed and rested her chin on Nick's shoulder. "This time last night we were dancing to John Mayer. Today sucks."

"Yeah," Nick enclosed his arms around her. "And we're out of suspects for the miniature killer case."

"Excellent. And we gotta do it all again tomorrow." Phoebe closed her eyes and sagged against Nick. "Carry me."

Nick didn't miss a beat and scooped her up off her feet and took her to their bedroom. Neither of them even got undressed, they just laid down in each other's arms and fell asleep. Phoebe knew Nick had fallen asleep first, his breathing evened out almost as soon as they hit the mattress. And she could feel sleep calling to her; but managed to kick off her shoes before she let herself drift off.

As she cuddled closer to Nick to get comfortable, it struck Phoebe how even after such a horrid day she had wound up happy. Mentally, she made a note to remember this feeling to try and recreate it for her wedding day.

Eyelids heavy, Phoebe hugged Nick tight and felt her whole body relax as she allowed sleep to take her over.

**xxx**


	80. Don't Hesitate

**Don't Hesitate**

A month after Catherine's attack, Phoebe felt things were getting back to normal around the lab. Cath was determined to move forward with her life and put what happened to her in the past, and if anyone dared give her a look of pity she would politely tell them to get back to work. Phoebe hoped that her supervisor's willpower was contagious. Her own problems were (rightfully) dwarfed by Catherine's, but if her superior could power on, then so could Phoebe. Even though her issues were centred completely around her wedding.

Phoebe couldn't wait to get married to Nick. It was the thought of being his wife that was much more thrilling to her than picking out silverware for the reception, but that's what her mind was mulling over that late Thursday evening. After an early dinner together, Nick had left for his shift leaving Phoebe home alone. After starting a load of laundry, tossing out their take away Chinese dinner containers and changing into her most comfortable sweats, Phoebe sat herself cross legged on the living room floor in front of the coffee table flicking through her large collection of wedding magazines.

The week before, Phoebe had done what she always did when she became overwhelmed with something other than work and called her mother. Penny had suggested her daughter keep a wedding notebook to write down ideas and things that needed to be done. It was a tactic Penny had utilized in her second wedding to Phoebe's step-father, Jack, to keep things organized.

So, Phoebe had taken her mother's advice and started jotting down everything she thought of in a bright pink notebook she had labelled _Wedding Crap_, but the note-taking didn't ease her anxiety. It just reminded her of how much she had to do. And how little she cared about napkin rings.

With her job, Phoebe was an expert at noticing details. And those skills were apparently transferable. Every glossy page she scanned she noticed another item she needed for her wedding. Table settings, napkin rings, candlesticks, salt and pepper shakers. And then there were the logistics. How many people to invite? Where would they sit? And who would sit with who? What would they eat and drink? Who would had to fly into the city? Where would they stay and for how long? What day of the week was best for the guests with odd work hours? The list was endless.

Their marriage licence had come through the day before, so that was one thing Phoebe was able to tick off her list. But it was the only thing she could tick off. The rest of her night was spent flipping through magazine pages. When the clock hit midnight, Phoebe made herself a cup of green tea and settled on the couch to watch a late night talk show. She rested her elbow on the arm of the sofa and browsed through one of her newer magazines. This one had a feature about different types of chairs for the guests to sit on. And after ten minutes, Phoebe ditched the magazines and stretched out on the couch to watch a celebrity interview.

The shivering sound of her cell phone vibrating against the coffee table woke Phoebe just before sunrise. Yawning, she reached for her phone wondering who would call. It was strange for the lab to ask her to come in this early unless they were short staffed, and she knew for a fact that they weren't because that's why she had the night off.

It was Nick calling. He was frantic. "It's Greg," He said. He gave Phoebe the address, and then told her he loved her before hanging up. Phoebe threw on her clothes, grabbed her jacket and keys and ran straight for her SUV. She was glad it was early in the morning, the roads were empty and she missed a couple of Stop signs. By the time she got to the crime scene, the sun was shining high and a crowd had gathered around the taped perimeter. Phoebe waded through a sea of bathrobes and fluffy slippers towards Brass, who signalled to a young policewoman controlling the crowd to let Phoebe through.

"Greg?" Phoebe asked immediately as Brass held up his hands to slow her down.

"He's gonna be okay," Brass said calmly, touching her shoulder. "He was badly beaten, but he'll live."

Phoebe let out the breath boxed up tight in her chest. "What the hell happened?"

"He was on his way to a crime scene," Brass explained. "Saw a gang beating up a guy so he intervened. Then the gang rounded back in on him."

"Christ," Phoebe ran a hand through her messy ponytail. "Where is he?"

Brass turned and pointed towards two paramedics working on shifting Greg from the alley floor onto a gurney. "Third attack in twenty-four hours.' Brass continued. "Some sort of hooded mob picking off unsuspecting people travelling alone."

Seeing Nick and Warrick processing Greg's car, Phoebe left Brass and walked over to them. As she did, she saw Nick approach a thuggish looking young man at the edge of the police tape. Phoebe rarely saw Nick upset, but when it came to his friends he became fiercely loyal. And whatever the thug said, Nick responded with a swift punch into his jaw.

"Nick!" Phoebe yelled in unison with Warrick.

Warrick pulled Nick back and rounded in on the thug, snatching the phone he was using to try and film Nick's attack. "Nick," Phoebe grabbed his arm as he tried to storm past her. He looked at her like he had just noticed she was there. He was fuming.

"Greg's bleeding to death and that jerk's laughing," Nick was so tense the veins in his neck were pulsing.

"Hey!" Phoebe clasped his tightened jaw between her hands and turned him to face her. "What are you doing? Are we beating up people now?"

"I'm sick of these punks," He said, eyes flashing towards Greg being loaded into the ambulance and then back at the thug who had provoked him. "I'm serious; I'm sick of it."

With their jobs, people being horrible to other people was expected. Phoebe told Nick as much. "Then you're in the wrong town."

"Maybe," He pulled her hands off of him and stalked away.

Swapping a similar look of understanding with Warrick, Phoebe left her fiancé to cool down, retreated to her SUV and followed Greg's ambulance to the hospital.

**xxx**

Being Greg's colleague didn't deem Phoebe important enough to be informed about his condition. The doctors wouldn't tell her anything. It didn't help that in her rush to get out of the house to Greg she hadn't brought her handbag. And her jacket with her CSI ID in it was locked safely in Nick's car. But as soon as Grissom arrived and confirmed Phoebe's identity for the hospital security, she was allowed in to sit with Greg while Grissom talked with the doctors.

There were things Phoebe was used to seeing that she wished she hadn't become accustomed to. Dead bodies, horrific crime scenes, assault victims, grieving families. She wasn't so much "used" to them as she just knew how to prepare herself for what she was going to see and, inevitably, feel.

Phoebe had worked with Greg for years, so she often forgot how young and dorky he'd been when she first started working in Vegas. He was that cute little-brother lab tech in the white coat who listened to Marilyn Manson way too loud. And then he'd been promoted out into the field, and his wiry body grew leaner and stronger. He became more serious, though he never lost his cheeky side . But to Phoebe Greg really hadn't changed. He was still that little brother, and now he lay before her a battered and bruised young man.

Phoebe entered Greg's room and paused by his bed to take in his injuries. His head was heavily bound in gauze and one eye was swollen closed. His arm was in a bulky cast that rested on his bare chest where tight bandages held his ribs in place. His skin was a palette of purplish welts and pink scrapes. The whole image brought tears to Phoebe's eyes before she'd even reached the chair by his bedside.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, Phoebe gently placed her hand over Greg's fingers but didn't squeeze for fear she would hurt him further. "If you wanted a day off I would have traded shifts with you." She said as she sat in the metal chair by his nightstand and IV pole.

"Hey," Greg tried to open his eyes but the swollen one barely twitched.

"You're gonna be fine," Phoebe told him before he even asked.

"The guy they beat up," Greg asked. "How is he?"

"I dunno," Phoebe said. Her knowledge of the case was extremely limited. She only knew what Brass had said about the gang, and then her worry for Greg had taken over. "Has someone called your parents? We should let them know." In reply, Greg just made a funny muttering noise. "What?" She asked.

Though half his face was smashed and swollen, Greg's chapped lips managed to smirk just a tiny bit. "They still think I'm in the lab."

Phoebe's brow knitted together. "Why would they think that?"

"When I was in high school," It took a lot out of Greg to speak, so he was slow with his words. "I never played any sports... no football... no basketball."

The image of Greg as that dorky little brother came back to Phoebe's mind and she smiled to herself. "I never would've guessed."

Greg snorted a laugh but instantly winced in pain. After a few deep breaths, he continued. "My mum wanted four kids... ended up with only one... She always made sure... I stayed close... If I got a nosebleed... she'd take me to the ER. "

"My mum was the same when I was a kid," Phoebe said. "I remember my third grade class were taking a trip to the beach once and she wouldn't let me go because she was afraid I'd get washed away," she told him. "It didn't seem to matter to her that we were going in Winter to take sand samples for some reason, and the teacher assured her there would be no swimming. Mum still wouldn't let me go." Phoebe paused and bit her lip. "I keep work stuff from her, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, I like her to think I just dust for prints and take photographs of car wrecks instead of..." Phoebe was going to say dead bodies, but with Greg's current situation she quickly caught her tongue. "I mean, she's not stupid; she knows what I do," Phoebe sighed. "I just don't like reminding her."

Greg's face crumpled in a mixture of pain and frustration. "My mum's gonna freak," He said tearfully, turning his head away from Phoebe.

"Yeah, probably," Phoebe scooted her chair closer to Greg. "But then you're gonna tell her that you risked your life to save someone else's. And I think she'll be very proud of you." Greg didn't say anything, but moved his hand and securely gripped Phoebe's fingers.

**xxx**

It was very early the next morning when Greg's parents arrived to watch over him making Phoebe feel like she was invading a family moment, so she decided to head home. Nick was already there, he had texted her. Phoebe got into her SUV and caught sight of a stack of wedding magazines on her passengers seat. She'd bought them the week before and didn't want to bring them into the house until she'd gone through the ones she already had inside.

Phoebe picked up a magazine with a gorgeous model on the cover in a short bridal dress that came to her knees. The model's hair was a deep red in colour, long and flowing. She had a white veil perched above her forehead. Phoebe got the distinct impression that the dress only looked good on _that_ model at _that_ moment in the photography shoot for the magazine. And if someone else tried it on, they wouldn't look nearly as tanned and lean.

Tossing the magazine back to the pile, Phoebe then stuck her keys in the ignition and started her car. Wedding dresses were a whole new mess to deal with. She had a fitting in a couple of weeks with a designer but had no idea what kind of dress she wanted. It would be white, she assumed. But even that she wasn't sure of; why couldn't she have a pale blue dress?

Phoebe exited the hospital parking lot and drove home, still mulling over her dress and the pros and cons of having one like the magazine model that came to her knees. It would be a good length if it was hot out, but Phoebe didn't know if she wanted a Summer or Winter wedding. According to another magazine, the season set the tone for the whole wedding theme. Course, she could get married at night in Summer. It was cooler then, but all her work friends would be, well, working. Hence the term Night-Shift.

And then there were overseas relatives. Phoebe still had some back in Australia but didn't think that flying twenty-four hours for a wedding would please them all that much considering the flight to Vegas and back home would probably be longer than their actual stay. But Phoebe had never really been invested in the creation of a wedding before; she didn't know the specifics and what was "expected".

Crime Scene Investigators had to see the details. See what was beneath the surface. All Phoebe saw when she thought of her wedding was a bunch of stuff she knew nothing about. It was frustrating.

Phoebe arrived home and parked her car next to Nick's in the driveway. She left her magazines in the passenger's seat and went inside. Nick was in the kitchen putting dishes away. He smiled when he saw her. "How's Greg?"

"Sleeping," Phoebe said. "His parents are with him now."

Nick nodded and closed the dishwasher. "Good."

Then, as though a light had flipped on in her mind, Phoebe had a solution to her frustrations. "Nick, will you marry me?"

Nick gave her a strange smile. "I already beat you to it."

"No," Phoebe tossed her keys on the counter. "I mean now."

Nick flipped the tea towel over his shoulder and rested back against the kitchen sink. "What?"

Phoebe felt her heart start to beat faster. "We almost died under that house," She said. "Catherine was attacked, Lindsey kidnapped and now Greg."

Nick looked concerned. "Is this about today?" He asked. "I'm sorry I reacted like that, that guy just got under my skin."

"No," Phoebe shook her head. "It has nothing to do with that, I promise."

Nick pushed back up off the sink. "Pheebs, nothing's gonna happen to us," He said. "We don't have to rush-"

"I'm not rushing," Phoebe cut in. Her mind was suddenly buzzing with all the menial wedding details she had been mulling over. "Do you know what I spent my night doing before you called about Greg? Looking through magazines at chairs for our wedding guests to sit on. And they're all white. But the article is telling me one is eggshell white, one is plaster white and the one that I think is regular white it tells me is actually yellow. And so I pick the yellow and checked online to order, but they're out of stock. The yellow won't be in for another month."

"Okay..." Nick was obviously having trouble following her logic.

"And so I start thinking how little I care about chairs," Phoebe said. "I just don't care. I don't care what kind of table the food is on. I don't care about the food. I don't care about the table settings. I don't care if we have a band or a jukebox or a DJ or karaoke."

Nick moved towards her looking worried. "You don't wanna get married?"

"No. That's _all_ I want," Phoebe said. "Everything else is just getting in the way. I don't want to wait for yellow chairs to marry you. I don't want to wait for a band to be free, I don't want to wait for the new seasonal menus to come out," She smiled. "I just want to be your wife." She felt tears heat in her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Nick gently took her by her arms and pulled her against him. "That's why we're gettin' married." He moved his hands to the small of her back and held her there. "Doesn't matter what chairs we get."

"Exactly!" Phoebe rested her hands on his chest. "But all of this planning is just a delay for what I really want," Phoebe shrugged. "Because I already feel like your wife. And this," she gestured around them. "This is our home. We're a family, and I don't want to wait for a wedding for that to be formalized." She took the dishtowel off his shoulder and tossed it onto the counter. "And honestly," She looped her arms around his neck and interlocked her fingers. "The idea that I could be your wife by tomorrow morning excites me a hell of a lot more than chairs."

Nick grinned. "You love me that much, huh?"

Phoebe kissed him. "We want to get married. So, let's go get married."

"Okay," Nick laughed. "Okay, let's do it."

Phoebe's heart skipped a beat or two. "Really?"

"Yep," He kissed her and then held her face between his hands. "Chairs don't excite me either."

Phoebe giggled and kissed him again. And then everything sped up. Phoebe ran to the shower while Nick started calling around to see how many of their colleagues could make it. After her shower, Phoebe blow dried her hair for the first time in a long while, didn't bother with makeup and shimmied into her dress. Phoebe only had one dress she really liked, a midnight blue dress with a firm ruffle around the waist. Funnily enough she'd bought it to wear to a wedding, but the bride chickened out and the whole thing had been called off. Phoebe hadn't even gotten to wear the dress.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Nick stuck his head in. "You ready..." His lips spread into a smile when he saw Phoebe. "You look... so beautiful."

Phoebe curtsied at him. "Get in here so I can see you," She said. Nick had gotten dressed while Phoebe had showered. He fully entered the room to show Phoebe he was wearing a jet black suit with a gray tucked-in shirt and no tie. "You're perfect," She said with a giddy grin.

Nick beamed. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," Phoebe turned to look in her mirror and noticed some of her jewellery on the bureau. "Oh, wait," She grabbed a pair of pearl earrings from one of the bureau draws and put them on. "My grandmother wore these at her wedding, and my mum wore them at both of her weddings," She turned to Nick and smiled proudly. "They're my something old."

"Something new?"

Phoebe thought for a second. "Oh, I have new shoes," She remembered. She found the box in the top of her closet for a pair of silver high heels she had bought purely because she didn't have any fancy shoes to wear. Of course, she also had nowhere to wear them until now. "And I'm my something blue," Phoebe gestured to her dress and wriggled her toes in her shoes. "Something borrowed?"

Nick was quiet for a second and then he snapped his fingers. "I've got an idea, come on," Nick seized her hand and pulled her out of the bedroom.

Nick grabbed his wallet and his cell phone, Phoebe picked up her handbag and her cell and the couple were out the door. Phoebe went straight to the car, but Nick ran next door to their elderly neighbours home. By their letterbox they had a line of grinning garden gnomes. Phoebe liked to call them Babushka gnomes because each one got smaller as you went down the line of them.

Nick pocketed the smallest gnome and jogged back over to their car. On his way he pulled a couple of blossoming white flowers from their front garden. He presented the gnome to Phoebe. "Something borrowed," and then he slipped one of the flowers behind her ear.

Phoebe clasped the tiny gnome tight, took the second flower and stuck it in Nick's lapel. "Ready?" She asked him one final time.

He responded by kissing her.

**xxx**


End file.
